


Vanquish and Destroy

by Neferit



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Mass Effect
Genre: Adventure, Because of Reasons, Crossover, Dragon Age meets Mass Effect, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Horizon (Mass Effect), Humour, NaNoWriMo, Overlord DLC, Romance, Stolen Memory DLC, The Price of Revenge DLC, Unrequited Love, WIP, Way Too Much Drama At Places, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:16:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 47,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neferit/pseuds/Neferit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the universe has twisted sense of humour, after defeating the Blight the Chancellor Sira Cousland finds herself on board of Normandy under Allison Shepard's command, unable to return to Thedas. The uneasy alliance will test both of them, Chancellor and Commander - will they destroy the Reaper threat, or just speed the invasion?</p><p>Written for NaNoWriMo 2013.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It happened on one starry night

Sira Cousland was deathly tired after whole day in talks with Nevarran ambassadors. She _knew_ they were doing their jobs – after all, she was just doing her own damn job as well – but really, did they have to be such a bunch of asses? The arguing about every single point in the treaty she spent weeks of preparing on made her think they didn’t actually bother with reading the copy she sent them beforehand, and even today they just looked at the first sentence and found none of them to their liking.

And here she thought that arguing with unwillingly conscripted Wardens, or argument-happy nobles was bad.

She yawned as she walked out of her office, the door quietly clicking closed behind her, her bodyguard, Ser Gilmore, immediately by her side. “Long day?” he asked, his tone suggesting he knew the answer, but still wanted to give her an opportunity to speak with someone who wasn’t in just for a good of word fight.

She gratefully accepted the offer, speaking to her childhood friend about the day, the endless arguing, he suggesting a word here or there, paying as close attention to her as to their surroundings. Those were the times Sira wished she never stopped actively lead the Fereldan Grey Wardens – while she returned to her place as Chancellor, it was now the Warden-Constable Nathaniel Howe who led the Wardens, the two of them laying aside any grudges between them in order to establish the Wardens in Ferelden again.

Part of Sira wondered what her parents would say about the way her life took ever since the fateful night at Castle Cousland. The whole castle murdered, only her, her little nephew in her arms and few people escaping while the rest of servants and knights had been captured and tortured. Then her Joining and battle of Ostagar happened, with King Cailan, another of her childhood friends, being killed in the fight that marked start of civil war. That being followed by gathering the four treaties, falling in love with her fellow Warden, collecting a curious group of followers, killing Howe in a fight, getting herself stuck in Fort Drakon, from where her friends broke her from, together with bringing badly wounded Roland with them, before they gathered last pieces of evidence to be shown at the Landsmeet where she defeated Loghain Mac Tir in a duel and with his death united Ferelden. Of course, then she was set aside, offered place of ‘woman on the side’, since hey, Alistair loved her but no way he would marry her as she in all possibility would be infertile and her refusing the offer, humiliation and shame painting her cheeks in bright red before she stormed out of the room.

She was so ready to die at top of Fort Drakon, sacrificing her soul to kill the Archdemon, yet, as it showed, fate had different plans with her. And so she didn’t end as a martyr, or a royal mistress – instead, she became Fereldan Chancellor, once again second in rank only to the monarchs themselves.

She was quite content with her life, but a nagging part of her mind kept on telling her she became so content only because being discontent would be too tiring, and when moving in the world of high diplomacy, one had to be focused, strong willed, stubborn, polite and most of all, well-rested. Finding comfort in well-finished treaties with Orlais, or several cities in the Free Marches was the only thing she could do now – thanks to her high birth she was respected in most countries, and thanks to the education she received from her parents, old Aldous or Mother Malol she was also a feared opponent when it came to arguing treaties.

Right now, she was fighting a hammering headache, when she remembered that tomorrow she’s in for another round of arguing with the blasted ambassadors, and all feelings of contentment went flying out of the window.

Sira wrapped her shawl closer around her shoulders, the night chill surprising her a bit as they walked through one of the open halls of the castle towards her suite. “Look,” Roland pointed up, “a star is falling.”

She looked up right before the star blinked into non-existence again, her thought revolving around one thought.

“I wish something about my life changed…”

And she really should know better than to ask for that.

**-o.O.o-**

“You know what is the greatest advantage of being out in the black again, Commander? No matter where you currently are, there is the perfect background for a romantic mood!”

“Good to know, Joker. Set the course for Citadel – as we have both Mordin and Garrus on board now,  it would be good to follow up on the mail from Anderson.”

“Sure, Commander – just hit the map and we’ll immediately hit the mass relay.”

Allison Shepard was tired. The whole day, as the several days before, had been full of nearly non-stop action left her desperate for a proper meal and a full-night rest. All the new technology, used in bringing her back, made sure she didn’t need to rest as much as a normal person would – but part of her itched to check her new cabin which was supposed to be in the uppermost part of the new Normandy.

Garrus was still in the surgery, though, even after all those hours she spent by getting the ventilation repaired and the plague cured, and she was just as anxious to hear how her turian friend is.

“Garrus should be okay, Shepard,” told her one of the Cerberus operatives, Jacob Taylor. “Chakwas is doing her best, and just as soon as Mordin came aboard, he lent her a hand in turian surgery as well.”

Just as he said that, Garrus came in the room – his moves still a bit fuzzy after the narcosis, but otherwise, his mind was at its nearly full capability.  And as she started to answer his question about his newest ‘boss’, something what changed Shepard’s life forever happened.

**-o.O.o-**

“Did you hear that, Rory?”

A strange sound, Sira thought it was the sound of sword being drawn, caught both their attention. It was one of the moments Sira desperately wished for both her daggers, instead of just for the one dagger hidden under her skirt in the sheath on her thigh. The whole palace was full of guards, but at the same time, Sira couldn’t help but think of the time years ago at different place where just the same sound had woken her war hound and saved her life in the process.

“Rory,” she said quietly, her voice getting urgent undertone. “No matter what happens, me and anyone else in expendable, focus on protecting the King and the Queen. Do you understand?”

Roland seemed like he would like to protest – after all, ever since she took her place as a Chancellor, he followed her absolutely everywhere, even to Amaranthine where she spent several months by rebuilding the Grey Wardens. His first duty when he became a knight had been to protect her as well – her current order probably made him conflicted about what his true duty was.

But then they found themselves surrounded by unknown enemies, and fighting for their lives in the process.

Roland made sure he kept back to back with Sira, his body offering her unarmoured person as much protection he could.  Sira felt a bit useless with just her dagger, even if she could do wonders with it – long months of fighting did not just disappear from the memory, no matter how one could try after all, yet given the fact that many of their assailants had long swords it made her weapon into a kind of shield.

Sudden gust of air by her head announced by that the attackers have bows or crossbows with them, as well.

_There!_ An arrow burrowed itself into her shoulder; painfully bring her full attention to the fact they are just about to get overwhelmed without knowing how the rest of the castle is faring.

“Roland, we have to go!” she shouted, jumping forward to stab at the closest attacker. “We must protect the King and the Queen at whatever cost!”

“I’m not leaving you here, my lady!” Rory shouted in response, his sword coming in a wide arch to land a hit at another assailant. Both of them pressed at their attackers, Roland being more successful in his offensive, Sira being more and more dizzy due to the blood loss.

Suddenly, Roland broke through the line of their enemies, dragging her along, one of his hands pressing her to his armoured side.  “Sira!” he shouted, as he noticed the arrow sticking out from her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me you got hurt?”

“Didn’t… didn’t seem important,” she was trying to catch her breath. “Roland, leave me here and go to check on the monarchs!”

He hesitated. She understood his conflict – the last time they got separated led to her being all alone during the Blight, leading the opposition to Loghain, while he had been tortured in Fort Drakon.  But this – what if the whole palace had been attacked? She didn’t spend all those years by supporting monarchs who would now fall victims to some coup, didn’t sacrifice her own pride in building a country which would be have to be rebuilt from scratch if a new civil war would break through. And it surely would break through, since Anora and Alistair had yet to have a child.

She gripped her dagger.

“Roland, go!” she told him urgently, her free hand gripping his arm. “I’ll just hide here, and won’t attract any attention to myself – but you must go, do you hear me?”

“Sira,” he whispered to her, his eyes betraying him when his voice wouldn’t.

_“Go!”_

He left her there, leaning against the wall, as the world started to whirl before her eyes and then she slid down the wall into the welcoming blackness of unconsciousness.

**-o.O.o-**

“Spirits, who is _that_?!”

It seemed like one of those silly sci-fi series, where some of the characters could teleport themselves right in front of the main cast, wreaking havoc and making fun of the mortals.

However, this one certainly wasn’t laughing at anyone, as this person, a woman, as closer examination provided, was obviously unconscious, some wooden thing stuck in her shoulder and a small pool of red blood slowly gathering under her, and on the wall she was leaning against.

And not only that – she was so similar to Shepard she could be her twin.

**-o.O.o-**

“”Lawson, I don’t care how much paperwork you need to send in about one hour – I. Want. Answers. Yesterday was already too late.”

Miranda Lawson could imagine more productive ways to spend her time than answering questions she had no answer to. But since she swore to follow up on orders from Shepard (as long as they didn’t endanger the mission), answering – or at least attempting to answer – any questions Commander may have had been her duty.

“What exactly would you like to know, Commander?” she asked, resignation clear in her voice.

Shepard frowned. Ever since Garrus dragged that unconscious woman whose appearance on Normandy no one could explain, she was haunted by her face. _Her_ face. According to Chakwas and Mordin, the woman was younger, her body bore different scars and she had been shot by an arrow, but apart from some strangely antique looking clothing and different hairdo the woman looked just like her.

And of course that hit every distrustful bone in Shepard’s body.

“During the Project Lazarus – did you clone me?” she blurted. Lawson bristled. “Of course not! I barely had enough time to bring you to life – there wouldn’t be enough time for me to create a clone of you!”

“Yeah?” drawled Shepard. She pointed in the general direction of the ship’s sickbay. “There is certain someone who definitely looks like you had more than just enough time to spare – how do you explain that?”

Miranda prided herself at being calm. But Commander had been just maddening. “I do not have explanation to that,” she gritted. “If I find out how it became possible, I will notify you.”

Sometimes, Shepard really missed having normal doors at spaceships. Nothing helps to calm you down more than slamming the door behind you.

**-o.O.o-**

Sira Cousland was waking up, the world slowly coming from blurry to clear. She didn’t recognize where she was – given how metallic looking the whole place was, it certainly wasn’t the Denerim Palace (she had the whole place sneaked through over and over, she would have noticed, if there had been room like this). Still slightly dizzy she was lying on some, uhm, cot, and with a flash of shame she noticed she was only in her underwear, the dress she was wearing when she ordered Roland to seek out the King and the Queen nowhere in sight.

With a giggle she thought it serves her right after she let Alistair lead for so long.

Then she sobered – without knowing where she was, it would be best to try to sneak around for a bit; to get some knowledge about her surroundings; not to mention that without her dagger she felt even more naked.

Her legs wobbled under her weight – she supposed it was due to the blood loss; even if Grey Wardens tended to deal with blood loss quite well, this was probably one of the exceptional time when her body decided it needs more rest. She forced herself into standing, leaning on the cot she was lying on before, carefully making her way to the nearest wall when the wall parted with a quiet whoosh, allowing her to see what was outside.

“Maker’s breath!”

Right in front of the door had been demon. Not only demon, the creature was in company of woman with short grey hair. The demon’s mouth started to move, its voice not making any sense to her – but the woman by its side obviously understood, because she turned toward it and said: “I can see that, Mordin.”

The demon made a step towards her, making Sira move into defensive stance. “Stay away from me, demon!” she cried. “In the name of the Maker, who brought us to this world, I’m telling you to return to the Fade where you belong!”

“Please, calm down,” said the woman in tone obviously meant to be comforting, bringing Sira’s attention to herself. “We are here to help you.”

“Maleficar! You ally yourself with demons and expect me to trust you?” snarled Sira, adrenaline surging through her veins as her eyes searched for the best opportunity to escape. _There!_ Jumping forward, she rolled herself into somersault between them, quick on her feet as she started running. She took turn to the right, running between tables before she noticed a knife stand on the counter. Finally she will not be unarmed anymore.

She could clearly see she has very little chance at escaping this strange place, but taking two of the knives there she felt a bit better about her still small chances. Hiding herself in the small shadows, she let her mind lower itself into the hiding abilities, the shadows surrounding her as her thoughts focused and hiding her form from direct view.

Maybe, if she waited while they searched for her, she would be able to get some better understanding about this fortress and escape.

That hope was soon squished down, as people started to search through the area. And Maker – would this nightmare eve end, there was another demon, this one even scarier than the previous one. It stood directly above her, when his blue eyes looked directly into hers and it said something, its voice strangely dual-tone.

_‘How the hell can that thing see me?!’_

Sira didn’t think about anything twice – before she or anyone could stop her, she pounced at the demon, knife in her hand as she managed to knock it to the ground, aiming for its face. But the beast defended itself too effectively, and she was unable to land a successful hit with her weapon.

She rolled off the demon, leaving it on the floor, and started running, several walls were parting as she passed around them, some of them hiding rooms with people. The biggest shock came in the room at the end of the corridor.

One of the walls wasn’t there, and it showed stars, and in front of the missing wall stood someone who wore her face.

The knife fell to the ground, as the adrenaline finally lost its effect on her and she blacked out.


	2. "Just who the hell you are?"

When Sira came round this time, she was back in the room she woke up before – but this time, she was strapped down. There was this demon standing above her, chittering away for some time before he looked at her in clearly questioning way. She just glared at it before she turned her head in the direction of one of the walls, pretending to find it interesting.

After all, you do not keep in presence of demons – you kill them before they kill you.

The creature stopped talking to her after a while, just pressing something on the table by the wall, saying something with a female voice responding to him; it sounded like: “Be there in five, Mordin. Shepard out.”

How, by the tits of Oghren’s Ancestors, could anyone understand _that_?

The demon didn’t pay her any more attention, leaving her to stew in her own steam. She still didn’t know where the hell she was, and she really needed to get back to her work. The Nevarran ambassadors were completely out of King Alistair’s league, and while Queen Anora might be able to hold her own against them, it was her who led the talks so far, and thus knew all the ambassadors’ tells and when to press them. If Ferelden lost that treaty, it might have caused irreparable damage in the field of Fereldan politics.

The wall parted and her look-a-like came in. Now that she had time to examine the woman closely, she looked older, and her posture betrayed her long service as officer in the army. She just wondered what army on Thedas would attack Denerim Palace – sure there would be better ways how to get rid of her than the attack she got injured in.

“I’m Commander Allison Shepard of the Alliance Navy. Who are you?” Sira thought that she kind of liked the woman, enemy she may be. At least she went directly to the point, although it confused her that her kidnappers had to ask about her name.

“I am, as you surely know, Sira of the house Cousland, from Highever, Chancellor to Fereldan King,” she replied, cringing internally how strangely accented her own speech was compared to the way Shepard spoke. “Why am I here? Are you after ransom? I assure you; King Alistair already launched a search for me. Release me, and I promise you mercy at the King’s justice.”

Shepard frowned. “I’m afraid there is a great misunderstanding brewing here. I certainly did _not_ bring you here. You just appeared on board of my ship, and once you regained consciousness, you attacked several of my crewmembers, before you lost consciousness again. How do you explain that?”

“The last thing I remember before waking up here is that me and my guard had been attacked by unknown attackers and after I had been shot, I sent my guard to search for King Alistair and Queen Anora, while I hid. Then I woke up here.” She paused for a moment. “You really do have demons in your crew? What kind of magic did you use to bind them here?”

**-o.O.o-**

“Obviously, we have a completely unknown woman who shares quite a few of my own traits strapped to a bed in the sickbay, with no knowledge about how she got here. She introduced herself as Sira of the house Cousland, Fereldan Chancellor, Hero of Ferelden and Vanquisher of the Blight. Opinions? Any hypothesis? Anyone?”

Shepard paced in front of the computer terminal in the Comm Room, her head pounding with vengeance. She spent several hours by interrogating – well, as well as being interrogated  by – the strange woman, both of them obviously distrusting the other one, but still being oddly fascinated at seeing some other person with their face.

“She called Mordin a demon, and swore by some Maker,” remembered Chakwas. Mordin nodded his agreement. “Yes, showed surprisingly quick reaction time when seeing me. Moved at good speed in spite of being wounded.”

“She also could mask herself in shadows,” added Garrus. He touched his wounded mandible carefully. “If not for my visor, I probably wouldn’t have spotted her behind the counter – but while she could mask her visibility to bare eye, she couldn’t mask her heat emission, and the visor picked upon that.”

“Would like to add the woman didn’t show any understanding of my person. On the other hand, could clearly understand Commander and Chakwas.”

Shepard nodded. “That is true – she understood, although she seemed confused at some words and phrases. Her pronunciation is good, although something about the way she speaks sounds odd to me.”

The ship’s AI chimed in. “According to the scan I did for Professor Solus, the woman of name Sira shows nearly 100% compliance in the matter of DNA structure. However, there is an anomaly present in her DNA I have been unable to find in any available database. Also, no database has any records of a planet of name Thedas or Ferelden. I ran scans for any other places she mentioned. No records on any of them.”

“Could you tell if she was telling the truth, EDI?”

The AI was silent for a second before replying: “There were signs of stress, but that is normal considering the circumstances. Nothing what could be constructed as reaction to lying had been found in neither her verbal, as well as non-verbal, speech.”

“Great,” added Joker sarcastically through intercom. “Next time you will say she’s from another dimension, too.”

There was silence, as all of them pondered about that. As absurd as that seemed, part of Shepard thought that Joker might have just hit the head of the nail with his attempt at sarcasm.

_Fuck._


	3. Uneasy Alliance

 

Sira had been bored. Being strapped to something was never her idea of having fun (unlike certain elven assassin she knew, she thought with a small smile), and there was only so many droplets she could watch drop from that strange bag connected to her arm with a thin tube, ended with a needle, before feeling herself getting even more restless.

One of the walls, previously solid metal, was now made from glass, allowing her to see outside, as well as allowing people outside to see her. She felt a bit like some valuable specimen, ready for some testing, and it made her feel a bit uneasy. Then one of the walls parted and in came the Commander, with a dark skinned man on one side and woman in absolutely scandalous bodysuit on the other. Oh Maker, Zevran would be so overjoyed by the eye-candy – she could definitely picture him making innuendos at both of them.

“Commander,” she acknowledged the woman, who returned the nod. “Chancellor. We may have hypothesis about how you appeared here.”

“I’m all ears, Commander. I would just like to ask – would it be possible to remove the straps, so I could sit up properly? I give my word on not causing any trouble.”

For a moment the Commander thought about that. “Jacob,” she motioned the man, “Remove the straps.” She waited until Sira sat up, scratching near the place where the needle was stuck in her arm. “Don’t scratch that,” she cautioned the younger woman. “It will get worse, if you do.”

Sira dropped her hand, looking like a chastised pupil for a moment, before her face got its calm expression again. “You were saying something about hypothesis?”

“We believe,” said the woman in scandalous clothing, “that you travelled through dimensions until you landed here. However, we are unsure about the reasons for such travel, and the means necessary to take up on such endeavour.”

Sira processed those words for a moment. “I’m afraid I do not quite follow what you mean, my lady,” she said carefully. “What is a dimension, for instance?”

After several attempts at describing what is a dimension, Sira sat on her cot, looking on the floor. “So, is this something like normal world and the Fade? I think it would fit your description of dimension, since it is separate space and time.” Ignoring their confused looks she continued. “But then it would be impossible for me to undertake such travel; only mages can use lyrium without poisoning themselves, and for crossing the Veil, the barrier separating Fade and normal world, you need lots of lyrium. Not to mention, I wouldn’t really be aware of what is happening here. Only mages remain fully aware when in Fade…” She drifted away, her mind doing crazy flip flops as she thought about everything she knew about Fade and travelling there.

“It was blood magic,” she blurted as a memory from years before flashed before her eyes. _‘Usually, great amount of lyrium is needed. But I… I have blood magic.’_

“There was blood everywhere – I mean, we killed quite a few of the bastards who attacked us, and after I got shot, there was blood on me, too…”

Suddenly, the younger woman started panicking, the machines monitoring her function blearing as her heart rate jumped from calmness to distress. “I need to get back! I must! There are talks with Nevarra about further cooperation, and treaties to be signed! Ferelden just got back on her feet after the Blight, we need the treaty!”

She felt a sharp jab in her arm, and then came the feeling of free fall.

**-o.O.o-**

Few hours later, Sira was sitting on her cot, warily eyeing one of the demons – well, not demons, per say, but ‘salarian’ of name Mordin Solus, as he worked on something in one of the corners. His chittering sounded strangely melodic, especially when interrupted by tapping his fingers on the desk of the table in front of him.

It was quite catchy rhythm, and it kept repeating a lot, so after fourth repetition Sira found herself tapping it on her cot, quietly, as she was unsure whether she got it right or not, but followed his lead nonetheless. He looked up from his work to stare at her with his big dark eyes; it made her a bit nervous, but she continued the tapping, adding extra tap here and there to add some variety.

After a while Mordin returned to his experiment, humming quietly, in turn making Sira hum a melody of her own.

It was quite funny to hum a melody with a demon, but hey, as long as he didn’t attack her…

**-o.O.o-**

Shepard was a bit unsure about what to think about their… visitor. It was obvious it was woman of authority, who had seen her share of fighting (if the scars over her body said anything) and was used to commandeering people. Yet, she had no problems with following someone else’s lead, and her eyes, while unafraid to look in her own, tended to slid over the room time to time, scanning it for an opportunity to escape, only her promise not to cause any trouble obviously keeping her back.

It was good to know that at least someone could keep their word.

She was also obviously used to do something all the time, because shortly after her awakening after the drugs induced sleep she was in a tapping match with Mordin, out of all possible people, just to escape the boredom.

As Shepard was watching the surveillance cameras, she could hear Sira (it was somehow more comfortable to call her by her name, instead of calling her by what obviously had been her rank or by what served as a surname) ask: “Could I get something to write on? A piece of parchment or something?”

She quickly typed a ping to Mordin. _‘Get her an omnitool, Mordin. There should be some free tools in the armoury. Ask Jacob where exactly they are stored.’_

Mordin quickly checked his messages, as him omnitool signalled a new one, and after passing eyes over it he turned around to exit the room. “Will get the things necessary. Will be back in a few minutes, ten minutes tops.”

Of course, Sira didn’t have the chip translating alien languages installed yet, so she just stared at him, clearly confused before she shrugged and returned to tapping some rhythms on her cot. Allison felt her lips widen at the sight.

It looked like her look-a-like was restless like a small child. Or herself.

**-o.O.o-**

When Mordin brought Sira one of the spare omnitools and managed to install it on her forearm, it was like watching a child playing with a brand new, but definitely expensive and unusual toy. She adjusted the size of the projection, and after asking for something to write and draw with, using a pencil as a stylus she started sketching various things; something what looked like some kind of heraldry symbols, pictures of human figures, buildings and after she run out of things she could remember, she started to sketch people around her, saving every single one of her pictures as Mordin showed her.

She may not understand the things the ‘aliens’ (she needed to learn to stop calling them demons) said, but as she listened to the voice of Mordin, she could recognize the emotions hidden under the unfamiliar language. Excitement. Satisfaction. Curiosity. Peace. Calm, as he spoke to her. Yes, she could believe he was a healer – similar to Anders; dangerous, but his hands, capable of inflicting serious damage could also heal the most serious of wounds.

She felt very alone as she thought about her now former comrade. Back, when she conscripted him right from under that templar’s nose, he viewed Grey Wardens as order which would finally allow him to fully use his abilities for the greater good.

How quickly he changed the tune, running away like thief in the dark. Grey Wardens knew all along where he went, but while they kept on monitoring him, no one actually confronted him.

She scrolled through her saved pictures, bringing the one with Andraste on display. Her eyes traced Andraste’s features, so familiar after seeing her statues in the mountain temple during several of her trips, speaking with the Guardian and asking about His Prophet, her understanding of the time long past getting greater by each trip.

“Maker,” she whispered, her eyes closing in the comfort reciting the Chant of Light always brought her. “Though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.” She was dimly aware of the typing in the same room ceasing, as she continued praying. “I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder.”

For a moment she felt warm, someone’s eyes on her, and feeling of comfort enveloping her like a blanket. Canticle of Trials became her personal comfort during the Blight and after, giving her strength to endure.

She will be alright in this strange, new world. The Maker will watch over her.


	4. Learning the World

 

One of the things Sira couldn’t wrap her head around had been the number of languages in this world. Everyone seemed to be speaking in different way, and yet they all understood each other. How was _that_ even possible without magic?

She was allowed to wander the ship, one of the crewmen always behind her on the exploratory trips to keep an eye on her. She was quite sure she could take him down, even with her hands in handcuffs, but she didn’t attempt to do anything but sticking her noses basically everywhere she was allowed to, asking her guardian about everything.

At the end of every day Allison Shepard made her way to the medbay she was still sleeping in, talking with her about the day, adding details to the answers the crewman gave her before.

One day, she came round looking tense. Sira felt that Allison Shepard didn’t like her emotions showing, so she didn’t press in the beginning but then she started to see the pattern.

She was exactly the same during the Blight, every time they were nearing someone while collecting the alliance treaties; the sense of foreboding that something is not quite right but it’s still not like they have any choice but jumping through every possible hoop and overcoming any obstacle, because without the Grey Wardens allies they had no hope of ever defeating the Blight before it devoured Ferelden.

“How does your quest do so far?” she asked, making Allison flinch in her seat. “What do you know?” she barked, her eyes boring into Sira’s.

Sira shrugged. “Not much about the specific quest you are on – but enough to know you are on one. Been there, done that.” She paused. “Definitely wasn’t pretty. Took a year to finish the whole bloody thing and the clean-up afterwards was still not finished when I landed here – and that was about five years later.”

“Tell me about it,” Allison requested. Sira recognized the tactic – she used it enough times herself; to avoid speaking about yourself you speak about the asker. But trust given is trust returned, and it offered an opportunity to speak about the Blight without people being awkward around her.

“For me, the Blight started when my older brother left for war, and our castle was attacked by someone we always viewed as friend…”

They spoke long enough into the night, before the tale was finished, ending with a “and then I stabbed it in the face. The end.”

Allison had been quiet for a moment, and Sira was content to let the Commander ponder over things she told her about. “Did they believe you? I mean, did they believe your claims about the Blight?” she asked abruptly. Sira snorted (with the hilarious feeling her mother would be appalled of her making such unwomanly noise). “Like hell they did. Only when the Blight destroyed quite a big part of Ferelden they started to take us seriously, and then they couldn’t wait to fight the Darkspawn.” She paused and gave Allison a small smile. “It’s always like that – you warn them, they laugh at you, then your warning comes true and you are the first one they come running to.”

“Har de har to that,” grumbled Allison. She rose to her feet. “Thanks for telling me all that,” she said, her voice carrying a note of thoughtfulness.

That night, Sira went to sleep with another feeling of foreboding.

**-o.O.o-**

Next day, Allison came to the medbay, her whole posture betraying defeat once the door closed behind her. The windows had been set on solid walls, for once, doctor Chakwas is somewhere else for the moment, so it’s just Sira and Allison, alone in the room.

“The mission did not go exactly how planned,” Sira stated, taking in Allison’s appearance. The other woman just nodded; her movements heavy and slow, eyes dimmed and dull.

“Tell me,” she ordered, and Allison started speaking. The pods, empty and full, colonists frozen in some kind of stasis, fully aware but unable to move, Collectors making their way among them, and filling the pods with the helpless people.

And then she met him; the man from her past. Past so very recent for her, while for him it had been two years. “He told me… he told me he loved me,” Allison whispered, looking down. “Right before he called me a traitor.”

They both were silent, before Sira reached to take Allison’s right hand, and gave it a soft squeeze. “O Maker, hear my cry,” she quoted, earning herself a surprised look from Allison. “Guide me through the blackest nights. Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked. Make me to rest in the warmest places.”

“What was that?”

“That, my dear Commander,” Sira replied with a small smirk, “was part of Canticle of Transfigurations, part of Chant of Light – holy canticle of my world. Its verses always gave me comfort,” she finished thoughtfully.

“Tell me some more,” requested Allison, her voice reminding Sira of her nephew when he woke up in the middle of the night, shivering after a terrible nightmare.

With a small smile, Sira started, her voice lowering down as she prayed. “Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just…”

Sira didn’t know how long she was speaking the Chant. But when her throat started to hurt, she looked Allison’s way and she found her lying on one of the spare cots, sleeping deeply. She rose to her feet, in quiet steps coming to her side and covering her with a spare blanket.

“Rest well,” she whispered and went to her own cot. The older woman earned her sleep – her heart was still troubled, but at least the troubles had been lessened for at least a small bit. And after she slept, she would feel better, Sira was sure of it.

After all, a good night sleep always worked for her.


	5. Change of Pace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied about the frequency of updates. I know it's supposed to be a piece of cake to update regularly, when you have something finished - but you know what a cake is. A lie.

 

Sira was bewildered how quickly things changed after the mission on Horizon. First, Allison told her to move to her quarters in the uppermost deck of the ship, saying she has room to spare, and could use the company.

She was quite eager to move from the medical bay to tell the truth; the scent of antiseptic (that was the word the doctor used, when speaking of things used to clean wounds) getting on her nerves. She was also used to be around people all the time, no matter how the crowds could get on her nerves time to time. But once a politician, always a politician – and if you can’t meet with people, you can’t do your job properly.

Allison introduced her to the rest of her group – there had been several aliens and bunch of humans so far; more people about to be recruited. A mercenary of name Zaeed Massani. Kasumi Goto, master thief. An Asari (she was quite surprise when they showed her a picture of Asari – really, blue?) Justicar (sounded like a templar to her) Samara. Drell assassin Thane Krios (she was reminded of snakes – beautiful and dangerous, all at once, when she saw how drell looked like).

The team Allison assembled so far had been quite a band of misfits.

Miranda Lawson, officially her second-in-command – unofficially, the one doing quite a few of the mandatory reports, biotic (which, as she was told, was someone who could move things with their mind).

Jacob Taylor – the caretaker of ship’s armoury, skilled biotic as well. Confident, calm, not afraid to voice his opinions… Sira liked him. He reminded her a bit of Nathaniel – without the opinion clashing, though.

Garrus Vakarian, turian sniper (or very precise shooter; if he were using a bow, she would bet her shoes he would give Nathaniel run for his money), also the person she tried to gut with a knife. He took it with surprisingly good humour, she was told, and when she were introduced to him, he just looked at her and drily said that next time, if he were her, he would go after the eyes.

Mordin Solus, Salarian scientist and great doctor as well. He would be able to talk someone’s ear off – but when she finally got the translator chip installed, she was amazed by the way of his thinking. It sort of reminded her of Avernus – without the blood magic and demon summoning, of course.

Grunt – Krogan berserker, tank-bred (she was unsure what exactly that had meant, but obviously it set him apart from the rest of his race, and not in a good way – something like city elves and the Dalish maybe?) son of warlord Okeer. He sort of reminded her of Oghren, without the alcohol and bad smell, with his eagerness to fight and bash things into bloody pulp.

And last but not least – Jack, or Subject Zero, infamous criminal and extremely powerful biotic, covered in tattoos head-to-toe in a way which would make her friend Zevran _swoon_.

Most of the human crew had been rather wary of her; she suspected it might be due to her uncanny resemblance of Commander Shepard, as well as rather sketchy details of her arrival on Normandy. She still suspected blood magic, but since the magic didn’t exist here in the way she knew it, it was difficult to say for certain.

At least now neither of them had been alone. Allison used to ask her about this or that about her own mission to stop the Blight, and Sira would share every bit of useful information about dealing with various races with her, asking questions about her Allison’s mission in return.

It was still so very strange to see how this world worked, but while she still felt like primitive at times, at least she had someone who was not ashamed of being seen with her.

The ship’s cook, or rather Mess Sergeant, Rupert Gardner warmed up to her after seeing her obviously enjoying his meals, getting second servings every time. After her Joining, she was nearly always hungry, the Taint making her metabolism as quick as a biotic’s would be (using local references), and she really thought Rupert’s cooking was good. And when she offered to help him in the kitchen, it melted the last remnants of ice he could hold against her.

No one ever offered to help him.

During the evening, when she and Allison would stare at the aquarium, watching the fish glide through the water, she would tell Allison tales from her world. Reciting a verse from Chant of Light here and there seemed to be working on Allison, too, since she started to ask her to tell her at least few words from it before every mission here. And the tale of Dane of the werewolf – what was there not to like about epic from her country?

_Let me sing of heroes and honour lost and found,_

_Of monsters and men in all forms,_

_Of Dane, hunter without peer, Feared by the forests of Ferelden,_

_Who one autumn morn spied_

_A hart of pure white in beam of warmest sun,_

_A prize for huntsman's spear. Through the greenwood they ran, hart and hunter_

_Bringing the stag to spear at last in a long-forgotten grove,_

_Heedless that the chase had waked a hunger in the golden wood,_

_A werewolf, a creature with mind of man,_

_Lured by the hunt and come forth to lay claim_

_To the hart as rightful tribute_

_Drawn by the scent of cooling blood. In the silence the two hunters held._

_Dane, spear-armed against the wolf with all his brood,_

_Knew with sinking heart he was lost_

_Steeled for the winding roads of the Fade_

_Then the beast spoke, human-like in voice,_

_"You have taken this stag from my woods, and my pack_

_But nothing comes without a cost."_

_The wolf pack circled, ever closer, and he_

_Who felled boars and bears with his bright blade_

_Knew fear. They spoke his name in roars_

_Like gravestones, offering a beast's bargain._

_"Die here, huntsman, alone_

_And forgotten, or take my place amongst the wolves_

_As I take your place amongst men."_

_Thus a bargain struck,_

_And Dane the wolf pack served in wolfen form,_

_And the werewolf to his family sped, as Dane,_

_One year and a day all told._

_But some things cannot be repent,_

_Some coinage cannot be unspent,_

_When hearts are wagered, a fissure rent._

Time to time, she would copy Allison’s rounds around her crew, exchanging words with all of them as she explored the ship further. Mordin’s lab and Grunt’s hold had been her favourites. With Mordin they would sing, until someone came to tell them to shut the hell up, their voices joining in various songs they taught to each other, making Sira think fondly of Leliana, her bard friend, who taught her all the songs she knew.

And Grunt was a real darling, once you learnt to overlook his tendency to destroy nearly everything; his booming laughter reminding her of Oghren so much she nearly asked him about Branka. He liked to listen to Fereldan stories or ballads from her world in general. He especially liked Brother Genitivi’s accounts about First Blight – the idea of facing an enemy like The Horde being extremely attractive to him. Part of her wondered, how long the Blights would take, if there had been bunch of krogan helping to defeat it

She got along with the rest – Garrus would teach her how to use his weapons, and together with Jacob they purchased her several guns of her own (with Shepard’s leave of course), so she could practice when they weren’t available. They tried to make her wear one of the armours – but she took it off pretty quickly. She never had been fan of anything heavier than studded leathers, everything heavier compromising her fighting style – with local armours she felt as if she was wearing a suit of plate armour.

She really missed her armour and weapons now.

Miranda had been cold. In some aspects, Sira thought her to be just like Morrigan – always keeping her distance from absolutely everyone, but secretly enjoying every interruption to her work, because she may be driven, but still be alone. There was something off in the woman, Sira thought, because her reaction to her saying her sister-in-law’s name, Orianna, was just strange.

Jack was like Velanna. Prickly and abrasive, always ready to destroy things with her shoot before asking question attitude. They would trade stories and long strings of profanities, Sira putting Oghren’s teaching to good use in this. The woman would call her “Princess of Girl Scouts”, the whole thing obviously some hidden joke, but it was all friendly, at least Sira hoped so.

When they arrived to Illium, planet in Tassale System in Crescent Nebula, Allison told her to prepare to discover one of the (for her) new worlds – business planet of the Asari, the blue race. According to the intel they were given by Cerberus, two more recruits were on the planet; the Justicar and the Assassin. She was not ready to combat with the weapons she was given, so she was allowed only to wander with the group, before they set after those two. Instead, she had the opportunity to meet more of Allison’s friends, this one an Asari archaeologist of name LiaraT’Soni, who know worked as information broker, a spy if Sira understood it correctly.

Allison then went to hunt down her recruits, as well as dig into some work for Miranda, leaving her with Jacob and Mordin, as they made their way through Nos Astra. There were number of stores in there, and they browsed through their wares, saving location of useful upgrades, weaponry or other supplies as they went, preparing it for Allison to review and possibly to check for purchase when she returned. Until then, they will enjoy walking through the busy city, making sure to never sign anything on this planet.

She had to smile. At the store on the terrace over there, they had just the perfect thing for Allison’s quarters.

Prejek Paddle Fish. Exactly what their big, _empty_ aquarium needed right now.

**-o.O.o-**

Allison sat on the couch in their quarters, watching the fish floating soundlessly through the aquarium. She never bothered to get any – she knew how badly she sucked at taking care of anything her life didn’t depend on, or what couldn’t announce loudly that it is in need of some care.

Today they managed to find their two recruits and save Miranda’s sister Orianna. Sira was currently visiting the newcomers, showing them around and trying to learn as much about them as she could, all her charming and helpful self. She chuckled. Sira already messaged her that Thane absolutely loved tea, the herbal and spicy mixture one could get from Sur’Kesh and Samara had confessed to liking Earth specialities.

She would be able to dig their deepest secrets in no time, Allison was sure, if given enough time.

Her roommate came up soon after, announcing her presence with merry whistling. They talked about the day, Sira looking more alive than Allison remembered seeing her in the weeks since her appearance. She tended to look rather sombre, even if she was smiling – now, happiness made her a torch of good spirits, obviously an effect after being so productive today, and Allison made a mental note to herself about delegating some of the daily task to her alter ego.

She was eager to help, and sometimes, Allison found herself eager to be helped.

**-o.O.o-**

_“Nug sits in the mud_  
Nug wiggles his ears  
You catch the nug, he slips away!  
Nug gets to live another day!  
  
Nug sits in the mud  
Nug wiggles his toes  
You hook the nug, he slips away!  
Now the nug runs off to play!  
  
Nug sits in the mud  
Nug wiggles his nose  
You tickle the nug, he laughs away!  
Now the nug sits on my plate!”

The crew present in the mess hall smirked to the child’s rhyme Sira quoted as she prepared something on the counter. Hawthorne called after a while: “Hey, and what exactly is a nug?”

The definition of ‘something between a pig and a hare’ made some of the crew to snicker, while some of them made disgusted noises. To Grunt, it sounded like paradise. Hare as big as a pig.

Lots of good, _good_ food.

**-o.O.o-**

Allison felt less tired than she felt in previous weeks. Sira had been helping with some of the day-to-day tasks several days, taking the workload from her back, and she finally had the time to breathe, to sleep and to think.

Somehow she wasn’t completely sure it was good, to have time to think. But at least a quick read through the Lazarus Project files, to know the exact range of the upgrades installed in her body.

First of all, she truly was dead. Not just clinically dead. Dead, in the sense of absolutely no activity in her body – no breathing, brain activity, heart stopped, her body entering the atmosphere of Alchera soon after all of her air escaped from her damaged suit.

She truly was the biblical Lazarus, Miranda being the Jesus. It only took two years, instead of the three days. Now that she thought of it, Cerberus really had a thing for human mythology – three-headed dog guarding the underworld, biblical number of followers (right now there were ten of them – like ten commandments), Lazarus as resurrecting project…

It made her wonder what else was to be seen in the upcoming weeks.


	6. Strike Zone

 

Last night, Samara came up to ask for help in tracking down a dangerous being, an Ardat-Yakshi. According to what Samara knew, the fugitive left Illium on ship inbound to Omega, and this being the closest to her in centuries, Samara wanted to finally land the killing strike on the murdered of many innocents already.

While Allison comforted the grieving mother, Sira and Samara browsed through Nef’s room. Sculpture, some notes in journal, a letter from Morinth – the Ardat-Yakshi - mentions of movie _Vaenia_.

Samara later told them the horrible truth under her becoming a Justicar – the dangerous fugitive had been her daughter.

The original plan was to use Shepard to lure Morinth from her hideout in VIP area of club Afterlife – but Sira disagreed with the idea. “I suggest different route,” she said, and after laying out her plan, Samara and Shepard unwillingly agreed.

In Shepard’s dress, Sira would be an excellent bait; her whole bearing loudly screaming she’s in control of every situation she found herself in, be it warning an investigative reporter, punching the lights out of pushy customer or weaving her way through the dance floor, her body moving together with the beat. As Samara watched the situation evolve before her eyes, she could see her murderous daughter just on the edge of her sight.

The predator just spotted its prey.

**-o.O.o-**

So far, everything went according to the plan they came up with sooner that day.

Make sure to stick out of the crowd. Tick.

Attract attention with unexpected. Tick.

Appeal to Morinth’s darker side, and keep her interested with feeding her what she was able to piece together in the room of her previous victim, or during her mingling through the crowds. Tick.

Mention her favourite movie. Tick.

Show appreciation of art. Tick.

Speak of music, and how it resonates in your soul. Tick.

And last but not least – do not turn away from the darkness. One last tick.

Soon, they were walking to Morinth’s apartment, her arm around her waist, outwardly a couple after some special time, in reality murderer with what she must think her next prey.

The apartment was interesting place to say the least – weapons and various artefacts proudly displayed, as she roamed through its rooms, Morinth’s voice commenting on her findings, before she made her way to join her on the sofa.

She felt a calming presence, similar and yet dissimilar to Morinth. She faced the Ardat-Yakshi, and felt her mind getting foggy, as the Asari eyes turned black.

“Echoes from a shadow realm, whisper of things yet to come. Thought’s strange sister dwells in night, is swept away by dawning light. Of what do I speak?”

Morinth’s eyes turned back to their natural colour. “A dream.” Suddenly, the Ardat-Yakshi felt danger closing in. “What’s going on?” she hissed, jumping to her feet.

Sira looked her directly in the eyes, before she replied with another memory, just as Samara burst through the door.

“A dream came upon me, as my daughter slumbered beneath my heart. It told of her life and her betrayal and death. I am sorrow and regret. I am a mother, weeping bitter tears for a daughter she could not save.”

Morinth died that day, after her intervention in the fight between mother and daughter. Samara had to help her back to Normandy, her mind still too foggy to think clearly, and her limbs heavy and unwilling to move on their own.

That night, her nightmares from during the Blight came back, Dragon roaring high above the ground, the horde cheering their god, setting flames to everything they could. And she stood hopelessly, watching all of it happening with bitter tears in her eyes.

Waking up the next morning actually brought relief, even if she was still tired.

The whole day she felt as if everything gad been reaching to her through a barrier of cotton; all sounds dimmed, the light seemed darker somehow. When she collapsed after speaking with Gardner, she was brought to sickbay, Chakwas running all kinds of tests on her to determine the reason for her collapse.

The results certainly weren’t good, nor were they something one would expect.

Obviously, during the short time Morinth attempted the meld, some of her abilities transferred to Sira’s brain, mostly because it had been a _tabula rasa_ , considering biotics and Asari mind-melding abilities. This result proved to be true, when Sira bolted from lying position, and managed to throw a cup all the way across the room just by looking at it.

To say it scared her would be an understatement.

When Allison rushed to med bay, Sira had been kneeling in the far corner, facing the wall, praying fervently to the Maker, her hands pressed together in front of her face. _“What hath man’s sin wrought? What hath man’s sin wrought? What had man’s sin wrought?”_

“How bad is it?” she quietly asked Mordin and Chakwas. The older woman sighed. “As you can see, our patient definitely is deeply distressed. We are unsure whether the transfer is permanent of only temporary – there is not much data available about Ardat-Yakshi as it is, and the little what is available says nothing about transfers through almost melds.”

The door opened and Samara entered, worry etched on her otherwise calm features. “I may have some data available on the Ardat-Yakshi mind meld, Shepard – but even with those, the current situation is unique. The Ardat-Yakshi usually kill their victim long before someone else enters, but the dying victims sometimes show signs of transferred abilities before their death.” She looked towards praying Sira. “If Sira was in danger, we already would have noticed that. The transfer of abilities to surviving victim is unprecedented – the best we can do is to wait.”

“Yeah,” grumbled Allison, pounding headache kicking in. “That is a one hell of an advice.”

**-o.O.o-**

Once Sira calmed down, the doctors were able to perform several more tests, comparing the results to see, if there are any differences. According to the results, Sira’s biotics were slightly weaker from the levels it showed during previous testing.

She was scared. She was not a mage to be able to move things with her mind – did this made her an abomination?

Bowing her head in prayer, she whispered: _“And so is the Golden City blackened with each step you take in my Hall. Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting. You have brought Sin to Heaven, and doom upon all of the world.”_

But she still felt. Still knew who she was. She couldn’t be an abomination. She couldn’t…

**-o.O.o-**

Once again, Allison was alone in her quarters, EDI having to remind her to feed the fish Sira bought at Illium. The younger woman was once again stuck at med bay, having tests performed at her every few hours to see, if there had been any changes.

Chakwas told her Sira took it badly.

From what she told them about her world, there was nothing like biotics in there. The magic sure seemed to have similar effects, but one was _born_ a mage, not _made_ into a mage by exposure to something. Mages were both feared and respected, depending on which circles of society you were in, but to Grey Wardens, mages were valued allies, respected above all others – healers, warriors, martyrs to the order, as they served their whole life, never knowing the freedom a non-mage would know. Being ‘normal’ all her life, the sudden development of biotics unnerved Sira to no end.

After all, she only offered to help a friend, and ended with someone else’s personality controlling several aspects of her own person.

Thane was often in medbay back then, his quiet speech calming the agitated woman down so she wouldn’t hurt herself with unfocused biotic powers. He would tell her about his people, about Kahje and about the original planet his people came from, and she would listen eagerly, forgetting about her curse. In return, she would speak about her own country, of Ferelden, fondness underlining her words as she speak of its war hounds, its mud and wet dog smell, the spirited people and opinions of surrounding countries.

They both laughed when she told him how she lost a bet with her Wardens and had to put on a pink dress and dance a remigold on the table in the mess of Vigil’s Keep, her friend Oghren laughing so whole heartedly he spilt his beer all over the floor while her Seneschal, trusted man of name Varel, just shook his head over her. She actually showed him how to dance remigold, and together they danced it as long as Chakwas allowed it, before she kicked the drell out of her sickbay, her face holding an affectionate smile.

There had been several minor mishaps with Sira’s unchecked biotics in the following days, but luckily nothing life-threatening, only broken tea cup here and there, before the abilities finally started to dissipate. When she couldn’t move anything even when she focused on it, both doctors released her back to the quarters she shared with Shepard, much to both their relief.

“The fish were already asking about you,” told her Allison teasingly.

And just for that, the fish got an extra dose of their food for several following days. Not to mention Allison pushing her towards getting some of the upgrades she herself had been getting.

It certainly was going to be useful to have better healing abilities, or stronger bones, she was sure of it, if only for not having to land in the sickbay more than was strictly necessary.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of Chant on Light and some riddles from The Gauntlet quest, all my favourites. Also using some headcanon I once found - that Morinth's powers indeed did affect even a surviving victim.


	7. Ongoing Missions

 

Allison once again didn’t know what to do first. Searching for resources? Running herself down to the ground with writing reports? Falling all over herself with following on various leads to any of the quests she had highlighted in her own personal progress report?

All of them were equally important – without the resources, they wouldn’t be able to afford possible upgrades to their armours, weapons, systems, ship or her own implants, as those tended to be rather expensive in the material means. And they were dangerously low on those, after the last upgrading spree.

Sometimes, she wished for ability to be at several places at the same time.

One evening, she complained about that to Sira. The younger woman had been sitting on the couch in their quarters, cleaning her personal armour she received lately and painting it in different colours, when Allison moaned over too much things to do and not enough time.

“If you tell me how, I could do that mining thing for you, when you are on some away mission,” she suggested. “Or at least scout for the resources and only have you signing on mining those you think are worth it.”

Together with EDI and Miranda, they made a plan. Sira will be scanning planets for minerals, mining the deposits in certain range as soon as she finds them, marking the smaller deposits in the computer for later review. If she runs out of probes, she will mark every deposit in the ship computer and wait for approval of buying more probes. If they find any kind of anomaly during the scanning, they will notify the Commander immediately; or, if Commander is groundside, Miranda will be notified with a memo being sent to Shepard as well.

It seemed to be working quite well, this small arrangement of theirs – Allison didn’t have to think about that, they once again had enough of all the mineral resources they needed and Sira had something to do during the long hours she would otherwise spend by being bored out of her mind. The crew got better used to seeing the woman on the CIC, standing by the Galaxy map as she marked deposits of interest, and didn’t hesitate to chat with her, if they had a moment, bringing her tea or just exchanging few words with her.

She felt a bit more comfortable on board of Normandy again, and it was a good feeling.

**-o.O.o-**

It had been next few weeks when Sira got another opportunity to get out of Normandy once again; this time, she was allowed to walk through Citadel, the centre of all the government of the galaxy.

“Just try not to attract too much attention to you,” cautioned Allison. “We had to ask Captain Bailey to jump through way too many hoops for you to be actually allowed to the Citadel, through all the scanning devices, and it would be a bad way how to return the risks he undertook for that with bringing him trouble.”

Sira nodded her agreement. “Would it be possible for me to meet this Captain Bailey? Preferably when he’s not at work, as it would probably be safer that way? I would like to thank him for the trust.”

Shepard just smiled, brought up her omnitool interface and typed the message. In a moment, she got reply. “He would be pleased to meet you in Flux this evening in six o’clock. Till then, get yourself someone to accompany you on the Citadel. You should have some money transferred on your account, so buy something for yourself.”

Sira saluted her cheekily. “Yes, ma’am!”

This will be awesome day, she was sure of it. Part of her hoped there will be some shops with clothing – she would like to buy some casual dresses. Those fatigues they gave her were nice, and quite pleasant to wear – but wearing a dress was still better in her opinion.

**-o.O.o-**

When Bailey finished work for the day, he almost cancelled the meeting he agreed to. This woman Shepard needed to be able to move over Citadel – he trusted Shepard, even if he realized that her ship currently carried colours of known terrorist group, and when she asked him for a favour, he immediately started working on the paperwork. It still quite surprised him that the blood sample she brought him had been almost 100% match with her own. It almost gave him a pause, but as he looked at her questioningly, she just gave him a nod and said that is the reason why she came to him.

He just hoped he didn’t just unleashed Shepard’s evil twin on the Citadel or something.

When he entered Flux, looking around he saw no one of his acquaintance, so he went directly for the bar, ordering himself a drink. Nothing like a shot of good whiskey – the barkeepers held on some good stuff for him, and he sure enjoyed a glass here and there, when he was off duty, of course.

“Captain Bailey?”

He spun around on his seat; a young woman stood in front of him, dressed in silvery blue dress that fell to her knees, her hair up in a hairdo which kept half of her face hidden from the view. The half of her face that was still visible was marked by a tattoo… and looked suspiciously familiar to his eyes, trained in noticing everything.

“You must be Sira Cousland,” he said as a greeting and motioned for her to sit down next to him by the bar. She offered him a smile and a nod, gesturing the barkeep she would like to have one of those ridiculously colourful cocktails with a straw and an umbrella, before she turned back to the Captain.

“I wanted to thank you for allowing me to roam the Citadel, Captain. I realize how suspicious it must be, but I have an explanation for all those strange things – if a bit unbelievable.”

“Miss Cousland,” he replied drily, watching her to pay for her cocktail. “After being in C-Sec for years, there are only a few things I really wouldn’t believe. So – shoot.”

And Sira told him, her tale taking several hours for her to finish, so they interrupted their meeting after some time to move to some quieter place; the place being Bailey’s apartment on the Citadel. Owen found it rather hilarious that the first woman he brought home was not even a conquest, just someone he did a favour for and didn’t actually expect anything back for it.

She was right in some aspects, though – her tale sure sounded rather unbelievable; the whole dimension travelling business of travelling from a world with magic to a sci-fi world full of demons and mages being a bit over his head, but even he could see how much she needed to get out of that ship, to mingle with people she didn’t see on everyday basis.

He went for some refreshments to the small kitchen, leaving her alone in the living room for the moment. When he came back, bowl of chips and bottle of soda in his hands, she was standing by the bookshelves, head leaning on her left shoulder, as she attempted to read the titles. She immediately jumped to attention when she realized he’s back in the room, and excused herself for overstepping her bounds at looking around his place. He just waved his hand over it, telling her to sit down and finish her tale.

And she did.

Before his eyes spun the bloody battles of the Blight, burning houses and roaring dragons; then it was endless queue of foreign ambassadors and nobles, all of them wanting to meet the Hero of Ferelden, Vanquisher of the Blight. Her story followed right until she appeared in this time and space, being attacked at the royal palace in the night, blacking out only to appear somewhere completely elsewhere, away from everything she ever knew.

When she left that night, she actually hugged him shortly before disappearing from sight, melding with the shadows of Citadel night, as she moved back to the Normandy.

He just checked in with Shepard, notifying her that Miss Cousland was on her way back to their ship, and that if they needed anything else in the future, then they shouldn’t hesitate to give him a shout.

The time came sooner than he expected – but still, his time at C-Sec made him ready for everything and all the time.

**-o.O.o-**

“Moving with the target – oh, that is the cutest of all the dresses I have seen today! I hope you get to see it, too, Allison, I’m sure you would _just_ adore it!”

Thane had his eyes trained on the area surrounding the target his son was supposed to kill. He allowed his son become disconnected, it was his duty to help him to connect again. Like Samara, whose duty it was to track down her own daughter, he now had to track down his son, help of his Commander and her alter ego priceless in this endeavour. Sira just had to use some nonsensical phrase time to time to avoid suspicion from the krogan bodyguard, making it sound as if she had been talking to a female friend on the phone, giggling and whispering in supposedly conspirational way. Allison had been moving on the level above them on the catwalks, keeping an eye on the scene from the top.

And there! He saw a flash of familiar bluish scales, and his son closing in on the target.

Time for connection came, and he only prayed to his gods that Kolyat will give him one more chance at making amends with him. His life was too short for more regrets as it was – he really didn’t want to add one more to the ones he already had.

**-o.O.o-**

Few days later found them back on Illium, finishing some business for Miranda and her sister Oriana. Sira chuckled. It made sense now, that Miranda found the name of her sister-in-law so strange.

She missed her sister-in-law so much some days, missing her gentle humour, missing her advice, missing the way she always made a cold place warm and cozy with her mere presence. Fergus never had been quite the same when he learnt his wife and parents are dead; only his son keeping him sane at times, at least to Sira it seemed like that.

Miranda seemed to grow less cold after her sister was safe once again, actually smiling time to time now – it was damn funny to see the crewmembers double take when they passed her on the corridor and Miranda smiled at them.

It seemed that every member of the groundside team had some business that needed to be taken care of. Samara started it all with stopping her daughter. Thane needed help with his son Kolyat. Miranda needed help with saving her sister from their father.

Now Jacob came to ask for help with finding the ship his father had been first officer at, Hugo Gernsback. Garrus came to ask for help for finding the man who betrayed him on Omega to the mercenaries, and caused deaths of members of Garrus’ team. Jack sent a message, which in turn led to discovery that she would like to destroy the base where the Cerberus experimented on her. Grunt was starting act strangely, nearly tearing the cargo hold apart in a fit of unexplainable rage, and since no one – him included – knew what was happening, so they would have to travel to Tuchanka, the Krogan home world. And surprisingly, Mordin suddenly needed to travel to Tuchanka as well – his assistant from the time of his work on some STG project obviously got captured by the Krogan, and Mordin wanted to save him.

“Did you also have to so much running all around for the sake of peace of mind of your companions?” asked Allison when she read Sira the list. Her companion just smirked. “You have no idea. Here you just fly there – but we had to actually _walk_ there. Imagine that – walking all over Ferelden because you promised someone to return their sword to them. Not to mention, you are looking for a _single_ blade in country in the middle of a civil war, with ongoing Blight in the mix as well.” She smiled a little. “It was amazing to see how much it relaxed Sten, when he got his sword, Asala, back – as if a missing piece of him was finally returned to him.”

“So you think we should help them all?” asked Allison, already charting the best course of travel to do all those missions at the least expenses when it came to fuel.

All their planning came to rather abrupt end when EDI announced: “Shepard, The Illusive Man wishes to speak with you about an urgent matter. He is on call in the communication room.”

“Well, paint me green and call me turnip,” grumbled Sira, when Shepard came back from the meeting and immediately started to dress in her under armour suit before she left for the armoury.

So, obviously, there had been a disabled Collector Ship, just waiting to be explored in the space, no one alive on it – and The Illusive Man just learnt about it from a turian transmission. It sounded a bit too good to be true, and part of Sira wondered whether the others smell the same rat in it as she did.

Obviously, they did, because when they returned from the mission, no one seemed to be all that surprised that the whole thing showed to be a trap. Conveniently laid, and well done – but Shepard and her team still managed to run out, and get the information they needed.

Good thing they will probably get to do a whole lot of shooting, because when Sira looked at all the pissed off faces around her, the ship was starting to get dangerous.

**-o.O.o-**

First stop in their mission cruise had been the Citadel – they needed to resupply in nearly everything pretty badly, be it ammunition, food or personal effects. The fact that they needed to find someone of name ‘Fade’ to catch this traitor of Garrus’, Turian of name Sidonis came mostly as a side effect.

Obviously, it still came as a surprise, when this Fade agent showed to be a former police man, a colleague of Garrus, and also someone who got discharged for accepting bribes and who knows how many other things. He helped Sidonis to disappear, and certainly didn’t sound thrilled when pressured to reveal his location.

It was almost scary to see how ruthless their friend could become when blinded by thirst for revenge. From the cam feedback Sira was viewing real-time, Allison could hear the worried voice of Shepard, as she had been asking if this was what his men would want, and Garrus snapping back.

Then Shepard had been walking towards the traitor, Garrus weapon aimed at the Turian, when Sira tapped into the communication, adding her own voice to the mix. Garrus growled at Sira to step aside, so he could snipe the traitor, Sira was asking him to reconsider, and Sira, jumping in so only Garrus would hear her piped in: “I know how you feel – but when I faced the traitor who murdered my family in cold blood, for his own gain, all I could do was to hear my King’s promise of justice. I would grant the bastard a fair trial, if he did not attack me. Remember, Garrus; revenge is dish best served cold – but at the same, it usually changes you in a way which is worse than the betrayal you’ve faced. Look Sidonis in the face, and see for yourself – does he look happy? Is he content with his life now?”

Sidonis was speaking right then, telling Shepard how food had no taste anymore, how his dreams are plagued by the faces of men he helped to kill, how he became a traitor after he had been tortured by the mercs...

Garrus reconsidered.

He was considerably and understandably angry, his mandibles pushed towards his face in a gesture Sira learnt to recognize as ‘come closer and I _will_ bite your head off’ and he refused to talk to both of them for several days, before he finally spoke to Allison.

Things weren’t perfect, they knew; they never had been and never will be – but for the moment, at least this issue had been solved, Garrus finally finding some closure, his talons no longer gripping his rifle with so much force that the butt-end would break, if he didn’t catch himself every time he thought of his squad back on Omega.

**-o.O.o-**

Their next stop had been the Krogan home world, Tuchanka. Allison told Sira – rather unexpectedly – to suit up in her armour, that she would like to introduce her to someone, and Sira felt a bit curious about the ‘ball of radioactive dirt’, as quite a few people call the planet. Full suit and shields up were a must, she was told, and at Mordin’s recommendation, she also applied some tanning lotion, to help to protect her skin a bit more from the sun – while the shields could take care of the radiation, and the air was breathable, it would be likely she will get burnt in the sun.

And it was quite hilarious, to see Allison head-butt one of the Krogan who thought it smart to look down at her. Bang! The leader of the clan, Wrex, definitely found that funny, and he seemed to be really happy – as much as a Krogan could look happy – to see Allison alive and kicking.

He also proved to be exceptionally useful when it came to delivering information about what exactly was ailing their Krogan – he was coming to adulthood, and needed to complete his Rite of Passage. So they went to the Shaman, asking Wrex to keep an eye on her – which finally led to Wrex noticing her.

“And you are?” he asked, earning himself a curtsy and introduction. Sira seemed to be amusing him with her probably overly flourishing speech and manners. He allowed her to roam the encampment, directing her to the Krogan who would likely not be bothered by speaking to her – the Shaman or the storekeeper Ratch.

The Shaman seemed to be quite pleased he got to speak about customs of his people, and Sira returned the favour with explaining her religion, reciting him some of the more war-like passages of Chant of Light. He was fairly open-minded, compared to most of the Krogan she passed in the camp and willing to give her pointers how to act in there – which she sure as hell had been grateful for every single one of them, when she found herself on the receiving end of number of murderous glares.

Ratch complained about the problems with pyjacks. Sira thought they looked like quite cute monkeys, but when she saw one of them sneaking towards the small bag of her food, she immediately felt sympathy towards the Krogan. No one but her touches her food. And being a Grey Warden, she considered her own food a very, very important business.

When Shepard, Grunt and Mordin returned, successfully passing his Rite of Passage, Sira was already leading the Urdnot league of “shoot the pyjack” game, content and sated looking varren calmly sitting by her leg, as she shot rockets at everything what looked even remotely like one of them monkeys, half of the clan betting who would win, if she or one of the scouts.

And even later, after they stumbled to the Urdnot camp after their search for Mordin’s assistant, they found her playing catch with the same varren, who was happily chasing the piece of pipe she had been tossing him, bringing it to her every time just so she could throw it again.

She was sad she couldn’t bring Urz – which was the varren’s name – with her to the Normandy, as he reminded her so very much of her beloved mabari war hound, but she understood the logic of not having such animal on board of a space ship.

Still, it didn’t mean she couldn’t ask Wrex to keep an eye on the varren, making sure nothing bad happened to the animal, the Krogan warlord promising her with serious face, with only a hint of mischief radiating from his eyes.

**-o.O.o-**

Jack was nervous.

It wasn’t as if she ever made any effort to mask how she felt in front of the others – it was just that she always radiated anger and fury; the nervousness being rather new on her. She needed to return to the place where all the experiments took place but at the same time, she dreaded it.

Sira sat this one mission on, just following the voice feed and watch the explosion from space.

She thought Jack would really get on marvellously with one of the dwarves at the Vigil’s Keep; they both had a thing for explosions, the bigger the better. The explosion Jack brought upon the old Cerberus facility certainly seemed like a big one, as it was possible to see it from out space.

Dworkin would be proud. Nothing like blowing things to the skies.

**-o.O.o-**

Given the time it took them to reach the nebula his father’s ship crashed it, Sira was quite curious how Jacob was still so calm about it; if she heard of her father after ten years, she would be tearing down the walls with her bare hands to make her arrival to him quicker.

Jacob just patiently cleaned his weapons and readied his armour, making sure he and the rest of the team had been one hundred percent prepared.

This time, Sira had been allowed to join them during the mission, mostly to test her newly acquired training in fire arms and ability to move over a battlefield in the armour.

She was rather proud that she managed to hold her own, even if more often than not she found herself just stabbing something in the face, because she couldn’t shoot it quickly enough before the enemy closed up on her.

Throwing grenades around had been something different – she really liked those. She already had been used to working with them from her time as an active Grey Warden, when she would toss these around most of the time, and this was, unlike the fire arms, a familiar ground to walk on.

It just felt a bit strange to walk over a near paradise world and shoot almost everything that move – well, and almost everything that didn’t, just in case it would move.

To say that Jacob’s father wasn’t quite what all of the expected was an understatement as well. Truly; what kind of normal sane person would expect their father to become a power obsessed control freak? Sira shortly though of Nathaniel, and how desperately he had been grasping at straws of his father not being the monster people said, only to have those hopes shattered once and for all by no one else than his own sister.

Jacob had been furious at his father for abusing the power so much. There had been saying about absolute power corrupting absolutely, and Ronald Taylor was a clear proof of that – once he had been given the power he had been unprepared for, he would go over dead bodies to make sure he would stay at that position.

Both Nathaniel and Jacob had been men of integrity, and both were able to move the monstrosities their fathers became, Jacob somehow easier than Nathaniel.

Well, all in all, she still probably wouldn’t be able to hit a barn with her pistol, if the said barn stood three steps of her, but she sure could punch it to death or throw a few grenades at it. Maybe Allison would be open to take her with others on ground missions – it sure would be a welcome break from the monotony that was helping Rupert cook, or scanning for minerals.

**-o.O.o-**

One day, Allison seemed to be somehow off for some reason. Sure, the whole crew realized that the Commander had many things on her mind nearly 24/7. But it still wasn’t normal for her to be like that and not to tell anyone what was the source of her discomfort.

Sira decided to ‘bit the bullet’, as the saying went in here and asked her directly what, by the tits of Oghren’s Ancestors, had been going on. Allison just pointed her to her personal comm station.

There was an email already pulled up.

_Subject: About Horizon_

_From: Alenko, Kaidan_

_Allison,_  
  
I'm sorry for what I said back on Horizon. I spent two years pulling myself back together after you went down with the Normandy. It took me a long time to get over my guilt for surviving and move on. I'd finally let my friends talk me into going out for drinks with a doctor on the Citadel. Nothing serious, but trying to let myself have a life again, you know?  
  
Then I saw you, and everything pulled hard to port. You were standing in front of me, but you were with Cerberus. I guess I really don't know who either of us is anymore. Do you even remember that night before Ilos? That night meant everything to me... maybe it meant as much to you. But a lot has changed in the last two years and I can't just put that aside.  
  
But please be careful. I've watched too many people close to me die -- on Eden Prime, on Virmire, on Horizon, on the Normandy. I couldn't bear it if I lost you again. If you're still the woman I remember I know you'll find a way to stop these Collector attacks. But Cerberus is too dangerous to be trusted. Watch yourself.  
  
When things settle down a little... maybe... I don't know. Just take care.  
  
\--Kaidan

“Permission to call for a punitive expedition,” muttered Sira darkly, staring at the message box, earning himself a weak chuckle in response. “I don’t think so,” answered Allison, her eyes gazing at something far, far away. “In some parts, I think he may be right – and in some I would like to do nothing but to strangle him for not giving me an opportunity to speak.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” shrugged Allison. “I know it’s probably just a sign of butt-hurt, but before he had been unwilling to listen to me, and now I’m unwilling to talk to talk to him, even if he actually might be bothered to listen this time. I mean – there is only so much I can handle after being called traitor, and after being told that the man I felt so strongly about tried to date someone else.”

Sira only nodded in response, closing the message, although she saved it to archives instead of deleting it as her friend wanted, after she made sure Allison wasn’t looking. And if they drank most of their alcohol reserves, it wasn’t as if neither of them was about to shout that out loud to the whole of the Normandy.

Not that anyone would actually care that both the Commander and her friend were drinking their broken hearts off. But still, even after they woke up with a mother of all hangovers next day, it was so much worth it.


	8. Plugging in the Overlord

 

** 8\. Plugging in the Overlord **

During the short shore leave the Normandy crew had while docking at Illium, Allison received new message, from the Illusive Man himself.

_Subject: Project Overlord_

_Sender: Illusive Man_

_Shepard,_  
  
One of our cells just went off the grid without explanation. Project Overlord has been experimenting with highly volatile technology, and I need you to investigate. Their work is extremely compartmentalized, enough that I can't divulge operational details over this channel. You'll find them on the planet Aite, Typhon system, in the Phoenix Massing cluster. Please use care in this matter.

It was only few FTL jumps away, and Allison thought it good opportunity to gather more data about Cerberus operations. The name also clicked something in her head, something she felt being just outside her reach, just outside her understanding. Given the naming policy of Cerberus projects, the name often reflected the project’s directive.

And a project of name Overlord certainly sounded… ominous.

It showed to be even worse than just that – after their team got to one of the stations on Aite’s surface, Hermes station, they were contacted by the only survivor of the slaughter that took the place there. The station had been overrun by the geth, the synthetics shooting at everything that moved, and them rather happily return the fire.

There was something strange, unrecognizable, in Doctor Archer’s face, when he looked on a picture of himself and another, younger man, and told them about the project purpose – create a VI overlord by fusing virtual intelligence with a human volunteer, as an experiment to devise a way how to control the geth.

His brother became that volunteer, and after the start of the experiment, his mind had gone completely crazy; if they didn’t manage to destroy the communication dish, he would have uploaded himself to the extranet, hacking every VI in the galaxy and start a war against the unsuspecting organics.

Sira, who had been down on the planet, helping around the station to clean the bodies and give them a proper funeral, heard something in Doctor Archer’s voice. Regret? Fury? Despair? Or was it utter helplessness? After all, he said that this experiment had been all about ‘man's reach exceeding his grasp‘.

As the rest of the team left Hermes station to override the fail-safe locks, she remained with Archer, partly to keep an eye on him, partly to help him to keep an eye on the team’s progress and keep them notified on any changes. The raving VI kept on interrupting any attempts at longer communications, so Archer was able to only relay directions towards each of the stations before being cut off, but once the team got to the Atlas station, something in the man snapped.

He run to the remaining Hammerhead, giving her only few seconds to jump in after him, before they took to the station as well.

The way towards the VI core had been littered by destroyed geth, and she could barely keep up with Archer, as he sprinted forward. She was prepared for lots of things, but seeing the young man from the photography suspended in some machine, tubes in his hands and mouth, his eyes forced open as he brokenly repeated plea for making it stop.

Allison’s control snapped when Archer tried to make her understand that the experiment must continue. Some sick part of Sira understood the reason for Archer’s reply for Allison’s angry question who gave him the right to play god.

“People who were too afraid to make difficult decisions themselves.”

Maker’s breath, wasn’t that one of the mandatory things of being a Grey Warden?

“At least he will be alive,” he said, and something in Sira’s stomach felt as if she just gulped down a bucket of ice. The Illusive Man sure didn’t broke failure, and this sounded even more ominous that the project’s name itself.

Allison punched Archer in the face when he tried to stop her from unplugging David from the machine, knocking him down with his nose bleeding as he stared up at her, his eyes sliding from her face towards his brother, his voice quiet as he asked what she intended to do with his brother.

They brought David, the young man, to the Normandy, treating his wounds to the best of their ability. Most of them didn’t quite know how to act around him – after all, how do you act around someone who seems to be looking everywhere but at you, repeating ‘square root of 906.01 equals…’, waiting for correct answer to that question before he actually responds to you? To Sira it was almost like speaking to Sandal again, the young dwarf always seeming a bit off, according to Bodhan it was due to lyrium exposure down in the Deep Roads where he found the boy. Both of them had the certain aura of uniqueness around them, and were capable of things others could never even dream of being able to do.

David had been quiet most of the time, but once he was capable of moving without pain again, he would seek Sira’s company, spending most of his time in her presence, as if she had been calming him down in some way. He would wander around Normandy as well, everyone giving him smiles and speaking to him carefully, but Allison could see resolve in some people’s eyes break as they watched him.

Cerberus suddenly seemed a lot less like saviour, when you happened to see their experiments first hand.

Grissom Academy seemed to be rather surprised when a Cerberus registered vessel hailed them, saying they have someone who will need their help, but once they were explained who David was, and what he was capable of doing, they didn’t have any objections against him joining the ranks of Academy’s students. Everyone said their farewells to the young savant, Sira softly speaking to him, as they hugged their farewells; the young man nodding to whatever she was saying before they parted.

Later, Allison received an email from the Illusive Man:

_Subject: Your Choices at Project Overlord_

_From: Illusive Man_

_Shepard:_  
  
I understand you've taken Dr. Archer's brother to Grissom Academy. I'm familiar with their work; it should be a good home for him. I don't condone Dr. Archer's actions, but they did provide a breakthrough we've been sorely lacking thus far. We'll likely never find another individual with David's unique talents. Though your decision is understandable, it has set our efforts to understand the geth back several years.

She certainly couldn’t be bothered to reply to that, but part of her wondered if her resurrection had been something of this variety as well.

Someone just made the hard choices for the greater good, fictional or real. Did it made it all better or worse?

She stared at the photo on her desk; Kaidan’s face looking at her from the frame, and couldn’t find any answer, which would end the nagging curiosity.


	9. In The Shadows

Once they were finished at Grissom Academy, it was decided that the Normandy will jump to Illium, to check if there are any new technologies they might be able to use, or if Liara has any news about her dealings with the infamous entity named Shadow Broker.

Well, even if Liara had nothing, they certainly had more than they ever thought they will have.

 _Subject: Shadow Broker Intel_  
From: Cerberus Information Processing  
  
We're aware that your old friend Liara T'Soni has been hunting for the Shadow Broker for several years. We wouldn't mind helping her in that hunt, given the Broker's past work for the Collectors. We recently uncovered some information that might give Liara a lead on where to find the Shadow Broker's base of operations, but unfortunately, she doesn't have much faith in Cerberus intel. If you'd visit Illium and pass it on to her as a gesture of goodwill, we'd appreciate it.

Enclosed was a big data package, which didn’t make much sense to Allison or Sira, but it was quite evident that a good information broker, such as Liara surely was, will be able t make heads and tails out of it and act on the information provided. As soon as the information had been given to her and she gave it at least short look, Liara visibly perked up, and excitement rolled off her in waves.

She asked them to come to her apartment later that day, in order to give her some time to hit up all her sources, so they had a clear lead on the Broker.

Yet, when Allison, Sira and Garrus arrived to her home later that day (there really had been a number of useful upgrades and weaponry, begging to be purchased), they just arrived to a crime scene, similar to the one they found Samara at. Several cops had been gathering evidence, finger prints, making photos of destroyed glass, picking up bullets for later analysis.

“What’s going on in here?” demanded Shepard. Instead of one of the cops it was an asari who was wearing an armour who answered her question. “It looks like your friend, Doctor T’Soni, had been target of an attack.” She motioned the cops away; the cops grimacing at the dismissal.

The asari introduced herself as Spectre Tela Vasir, and Sira thought it quite impressive that this Liara was important enough to attract attention of a Spectre – minus Shepard, of course, who was understandably worried about her friend. They searched the apartment for some clues about where Liara might have gone, as the evidence suggested she left some, and after some time all of them were ready to give up, when Allison picked up a picture of Normandy and it changed into a picture of Prothean ruin.

The disc with a message was carefully tucked away under one of the Prothean artefacts placed around the apartment, and it led them to Baria Frontiers office over at Dracon Trade Center.

 _‘This place sure had more in common with Thedas than one would have thought on first sight,’_ thought Sira fondly as she sat in the cab, gazing out of the window. _‘I almost asked whether the place is a fortress in the capital…’_

As soon as they got in there, huge explosion shook the whole place, fatal to many people. Several wounded people staggered out of the building, bleeding badly. With sinking feeling, Allison thought of Liara, who was supposed to be in the building.

It almost didn’t surprise them that yet another Spectre was after them – at Shadow Broker’s call.

Liara appeared from somewhere all of sudden, running after Vasir, not even bothering to look back as Shepard slowly gathered herself from the ground where she landed after several-stores fall. For a moment Sira and Garrus thought it’s, well, over, but then she stood up and ran after Liara and Vasir, her gait sure as if she just dropped to the ground with practiced ease. Got to love the Cerberus upgrades sometimes, obviously.

Still, the asari Spectre managed to escape in her sky car.

Somehow, all of them cramped into the other sky car available, Shepard at the steering wheel, and they started after the escaping Spectre. Liara seemed to be nervous to be in the car, but Sira actually felt rather thrilled at the speed the car flew.

 _‘This is what flying a griffon must have been like,’_ she thought, holding on the seat before her tightly. _‘It’s almost a pity I’m stuck in the car and not out, holding out while we fly.’_

There! They finally caught up with Vasir, and with several expert moves of the steering wheel Shepard had her crash land on a terrace of one of the point houses.

Of course, it wasn’t all that easy to catch the Spectre, even if she was wounded, but they still managed to hunt her down, save the hostage she took, and kick some serious ass.

And Allison was angry – Liara seemed to be so obsessed with getting back at Shadow Broker that she wasn’t hesitating to even walk over dead bodies in her race to the Broker. It almost hurt to throw that into the face of her friend, but she had a feeling if she didn’t do it now, later would be already too late for it to have any impact at all.

Like this, it at least made her friend to think a bit about what happened today.

“Liara,” she said quietly to the distraught asari. “We will get your friend, Feron, out of Broker’s clutches in time.”

The information broker looked up and smiled. “I know. Just like you got me out of that Prothean bubble on Therum, yes?”

Chuckling, they went after Sira and Garrus, who already waited for them by their sky car, loudly debating how surprising it is that every Spectre Allison ran into so far turned to be just another guy who wanted to gun Shepard down.

**-o.O.o-**

Next day, the Normandy had been flying through space in another sector of the Milky Way, in Hourglass Nebula, system Sowilo. The planet they were looking for had been named Hagalaz, and so far the planet had been absolutely uninteresting, due to the drastic contrasts between the night part of the planet and the day part of the planet – either boiling seas, or covered by ice, with violent lighting storms where the two zones met.

It made them all wonder where the hell can Shadow Broker hide on a planet like that but Liara had an answer ready. He was using a great ship, never meant for travelling through space – but perfectly acclimated for the conditions on Hagalaz. It was probably more of an atmospheric station than a space ship; using the energy from the lighting as its powering source.

Originally, Liara insisted on only small team of three infiltrating the ship but Shepard was unmovable on this – either there will be at least four teams of three, or at least two teams of six, the first team infiltrating and the second team finishing the cleaning up of the whole Broker base, as well as serving as come to the rescue team, if they took too long for contacting them or the Normandy for a pick up, no discussions on that point. After a while, Liara yielded

Sira got picked into the first team, her experiences in skulking through places making her a good choice for a mission like this. It was her, Liara, Allison, Thane, Legion and Kasumi, opening the way for the second team that followed half an hour after them – Jack, Garrus, Miranda, Samara, Jacob and Grunt.

It was almost too easy to infiltrate the base of the greatest infiltrator of this age – the only opposition to their attack being some troops and mechs.

It showed, after they finally found Feron, strapped to a torturing chair, that the Shadow Broker had been keeping the final trump up his sleeve all the time. The bloody thing had been enormous. Yagh, I she remembered what Liara called it before; before the thing swooped its hand around, using some strange powers to sweep the floor with most of them.

She, Kasumi and Thane went to the ground, the air – and at least in one case, consciousness – being knocked out of them for a moment, while the rest of them fought the monstrosity. Before they could gather themselves from the floor and join the fight, it was all over.

The Broker is dead, may long live the Broker.

As they limped back to the Normandy, meeting the second team half way, Sira couldn’t help but grin a bit when she remembered the surprised expression on Broker’s face, as he lied there dead.

That definitely taught him a lesson on underestimating anyone smaller than him.


	10. Dead Gods Who Still Dream

Two weeks after the happenings of Project Overlord and invading the Shadow Broker base on Hagalaz, it was decided the team will follow up on Collector’s threat, and look into problems with Cerberus research facility. This one had been led by Doctor Chandana, and it was stationed in the derelict Reaper, in Hawking Eta Cluster, in system Thorne.

After all, for being able to travel through Omega Four relay, they would need the Reaper IFF, and where they better find it, if not in a corpse of a Reaper?

The feedback Sira and Joker watched from the view in Shepard’s helmet was giving them creeps. To Sira it seemed as bad as walking through Deep Roads again, and she sure as hell didn’t miss those walks – no one would probably miss the feeling of walking over their graves, and least of them her.

The team found several computer logs, left by the researchers, and they had been increasingly creepier, the further the team got into the lab. First, one of the researchers reported doctor Chandana being weird about the whole research, as he would listen to the specimens they would be studying. Then came several researchers who would share the same memories, and each of them thinking them their own. Later, they started to suffer from headaches, hallucinations and the feeling of wrongness, of awareness. The scientists, at least some of them came to the feeling that the ship, the Reaper, knew they were inside of it, and decided to make them suffer for disturbing its peace.

The last log they discovered had been the most disturbing of all in its frankness and finality:

_“Chandana said the ship was dead. We trusted him. He was right. But even a dead god can dream. A god — a real god — is a verb. Not some old man with magic powers. It's a force. It warps reality just by being there. It doesn't have to want to. It doesn't have to think about it. It just does. That's what Chandana didn't get. Not until it was too late. The god's mind is gone but it still dreams. He knows now. He's tuned in on our dreams. If I close my eyes I can feel him. I can feel every one of us.”_

They also managed to find a small ‘forest‘ of something Joker called ‘dragon’s teeth’, with people being impaled on those. Those were obviously used to create husks, the strange creatures that kept on attacking the team, reminding Sira of ghouls, tainted people beyond saving, but still not completely changed into Darkspawn.

Suddenly, there had been a bunch of husks approaching – but before anyone from the team could shoot at least a single bullet, sound of several gunshots sounded and the husks fell to the ground, with a wound between what would be their eyes, gaze of everyone following to the geth who stood on one of the alcoves with a sniper rifle in its hands, the light that would be a face, if the geth had been a human flicking a bit before it acknowledged Shepard with a nod and ‘Shepard-Commander’ and disappeared somewhere in the depths of the Reaper.

Maker’s breath, could this whole thing get even more confusing?

The geth got disabled before they reached the Reaper’s kinetic core, but as they managed to kind of shot the Reaper from the sky, they dragged the disabled synthetic with them, stationing it in the AI core before Shepard decided what to do with it.

For now, they had number of things to decide on, and somehow Sira doubted all of them will be pleasant. Like – what to do with the geth they just recovered? Should they activate it, or should they just send it over to Cerberus?

Allison decided to activate it with barriers held up, so she could question it. Why was it in the derelict Reaper? Why did it shoot the husks? How did it know her? And why did it have piece of her old N7 armour on itself?

Later, they had one more new team member, a geth whom they started to call ‘Legion’, and were on way to possibly gain another one – a quarian of name Tali’Zorah vas Neema, an old friend of Allison from the previous big quest after Saren.

All in all, Sira thought it was a bit like talking to one of the Darkspawn Disciples and then helping the Architect against the Mother – something to piss everyone else off, and something to possibly help matters overall, although at the moment the results were uncertain at best.

 _My name is Legion_ , _for we are many. Really, what a way to make the Chant of Light, the Canticle of Trials, even more interesting than it already was._

**-o.O.o-**

Recruiting Tali back into her team had been one hell of a curious matter. After always hearing of Quarians and their Migrant Fleet, it was strange to find a world with quarian architecture still standing, even if it was infested by geth all the same.

Tali lost almost everyone from her team, only one marine surviving the whole mission, and helping Shepard to save Tali from the geth who had been trying to hack into the observatory she locked herself in. The whole planet had been one big trap, with its sun set on destroying everything what wasn’t hiding in shade, nearly overloading their shields and melting them into a coal in the process.

No wonder the poor quarians haven’t been much of a match to the geth, no matter how hard they tried.

Tali seemed almost relieved to be back at Normandy, even if she sounded a bit sad when saying her farewells to the last of the marines who survived the whole fiasco at Haestrom, Kal’Reegar. Both their voices were sad, but Kal’Reegar’s held a promise of help in future, if it would be in his capabilities.

Allison received an email from Tali’s father shortly afterwards.

_Subject: Tali’Zorah’stransfer to Normandy_

_From: Admiralty Board, Migrant Fleet_  
  
Commander Shepard,  
  
Per Tali'Zorah vas Neema's request included with her data delivery from Haestrom, the Admiralty Board has approved her transfer to your command. She has been informed that additional duties to the Migrant Fleet may still be necessary on occasion, but has been given extended leeway to determine when her mission with you is considered complete.  
  
This choice was hers, but your role as de facto captain during her Pilgrimage may have caused her to be more susceptible to your requests. The Admiralty Board trusts that you will treat your new crew member with the respect due an honoured member of the Fleet. Should any harm come to her due to negligence on your part, this board will take severe and appropriate action.  
  
Admiral Rael'Zorah,  
  
Migrant Fleet Admiralty Board

It made her smile that her father still made a point of threatening everyone who would dare to even think of hurting his daughter. Little did they know that in very short time, it will be only them and few others between Tali and a threat of her being sent into exile for something she had no control of.


	11. Rebellion of the Brains

 

Three hundred years ago the geth rebelled against their Creators in something they called The Morning Wars; simple question “does this unit have a soul” being one of the reasons for the oppression of the geth, which in turn led to their rebellion and the Creators being exiled into the space, doomed to either find another planet or travel forever during the vastness of space, never finding peace in their neverending journey.

According to Legion and his many programs running in that platform, the Quarians had to be attacked because they were endangering the geth – but once the threat to their existence had been removed, geth ceased all pursuit of their Creators, opting to stay in the home cluster, minding their own business, only Sovereign’s and Saren’s influence making some of them into heretics, who chose to oppose every organic being in the galaxy; the Reapers – the Old Gods – being the ones they would follow, destroying everything in their path.

Legion said majority of the geth were against that – but once the geth population divided, the true geth couldn’t do anything against the heretics. And now the heretics were attempting to override the programming of the true geth, to re-write them into heretics as well.

And Legion was far from allowing that to happen, even asking Shepard for help in either re-writing the heretics, or destroying them once and for all.

Yet, when the team finally reached the main server room, Legion had been undecided what to do with the heretics, asking Shepard what it should do. Sira certainly didn’t envy the Commander the decision – but in the end, she thought the decision to be the best.

Destroy the virus, and the heretics together with it.

When the team had been running from the server room towards the airlock that was connected to Normandy, more geth swarmed in the corridors, intending to stop them, or at least slow them down for long enough for them to be caught in the explosion as well.

They reached the Normandy just in time to escape the explosion, the station exploding in a fountain of colours behind them, as the ship accelerated.

**-o.O.o-**

Few days after the last big mission the Normandy had been calmly floating through the space; Sira once again mining asteroids for resources when the comm at the CIC console beeped.

“Joker, I’m uploading new set of coordinates. Set a course on those, and make it there on the double time.”

“Aye, eye, ma’am!” responded the pilot, and the map appeared in front of Sira, showing where the coordinates lead. The estimated arrival time had been set for about half a day, leaving plenty of time to sort through the scanning data she collected so far that day, so she downloaded the files to her omnitool and several data pads and went up to the loft.

She was working there, occasionally using the terminal, for several hours, finishing the data on several data pads when the door opened and Allison entered. Sira looked up, giving her a small smile.

“I have some mining data, Allison, and will need your approval to buy some more probes…”

“The hell do I care about that!” snapped Allison, her tone sharp, causing Sira to pull back the hand she was holding the data pads to her in as if there was a dog who threatened to bite her.

“Sorry, I’ll hold on those for until you have more time for going through them,” she offered calmly, wary of Allison’s temper. She rarely showed it – but when it showed, it was a sight to behold, as well as a thing to run for your life before.

Allison ran her hand over her face tiredly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you like that – the thing is, our latest addition, Tali, had been accused of committing a treason on the Migrant Fleet, and knowing as little of the whole thing as we do, I can’t help but be quite on an edge over the whole thing.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” said Sira, feeling bad for the young quarian. She had known her for only a short time, but what she had seen, she liked. To even think that someone who spoke so fondly, so passionately, about the Fleet, could be a traitor… simply unthinkable.

They spoke about what was known so far about the whole affair for a moment – the punishment Tali could be facing, if they took too long to arrive to the Fleet to defend Tali from the absolutely ridiculous charges.

“I would like to go with you,” Sira said. At Allison’s surprised glance she added: “I think it’s mostly some political bullshit – and since I myself am a politician, I may be able to help with that.”

For a moment, Allison thought it over before nodding her agreement. “EDI will call us half an hour before our ETA, so we can suit up.” She tapped her omnitool. “Some reading for you, so you know what we are going to deal with after we arrive to our meeting point. Read it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sira saluted, immediately opening the files, enlarging the pages so it would project around her as she read it. There was so many facts to read up, and so little time. Study your opponent, find their weakness and explore it.

That was what she was trained to do, what she was meant to do. And being Fereldan Chancellor sure suited her well in that aspect.

Allison looked away from suddenly busy Sira. At least someone was finding the whole situation thrilling. She and poor Tali sure didn’t.

**-o.O.o-**

Sira curiously looked around when she stepped out of the airlock. Hm… so this is what quarian ships looked like – she was just a bit surprised that the quarians wore their suits even in their home ships. According to the information she gathered from the materials Shepard transferred to her, the quarians wore their suits due to their weakened immune systems, which were always not that strong, but after centuries spent in the recycled air of their ships it got quite literally shot out of the airlock completely.

At least she didn’t have to feel all that awkward for wearing her armour as well – she asked for resources to have it modified in a way which would resemble the Grey Warden uniform armour, with proper heraldry and colour scheme. She even got her helmet redone, so it would look like the famous Griffon helmets the Grey Wardens wore when they still flew the famed aerials.

People snickered quite openly when they saw her wearing it, but to her, it was like wearing a piece of home on her person. And she was a noble – snickering of her lesser could never insult her, she thought with perfect imitation of Habren of Southern Reach.

Right after their entrance it became apparent that something is very, very rotten in the Fleet, but none of them could pin point what exactly it can be. First, it seemed the Admiralty Board already pre-exiled Tali, stripping her of her name of ‘vas Neema’, giving her ‘vas Normandy’ instead, and then flung their accusations at her.

Obviously, she was supposed to endanger the fleet by bringing in active geth parts. Tali angrily defended herself that every part she sent to her father to study was disabled, carefully examined before she sent it anywhere, although Sira could see small cracks in that mask. Tali was unsure about herself in that moment – she could see the questions running in her head, ‘did I really disable them’ and she touched Allison’s elbow carefully, taking Commander’s attention slightly from the argument before them.

“They are looking for a sacrificial lamb in some grander game,” she hissed, Allison nodding slightly. She came to the same results when she ran the numbers in her head, and it angered her to see her old friend Tali reduced to a pawn in some grand game of Flotilla chess. Then something the admirals said caught both their attention – the ship of Admiral Zorah, Alarei, had been overrun by the geth.

“I believe it may be best to re-take the ship,” suggested Allison, her voice ringing over the heads of assembled quarians, easily catching their attention. Sira nodded her support of the idea by her side, carefully looking over the admirals, eyes honed on any gestures they may do. Without the ability to see their faces her ability to read the non-verbal speech had been rather limited, not to mention that even with their faces uncovered it would probably be still too alien for her – but the lack of expression made her a bit uneasy.

She volunteered to stay back on Rayya, while Shepard, Tali and Grunt took the shuttle to Alarei, talking with the quarians, asking about their view of the whole thing. Two of them especially made for interesting conversations – Veetor and Kal’Reegar. From what the others told her from the start of the whole Cerberus thing, it was Veetor’s data from Freedom’s Progress colony what confirmed Cerberus’ suspicion of the Collectors being the source of missing colonies. According to the mission report, Veetor had been in really bad condition; delirious from suit rupture with his nerves in shreds after what he had been witness to. Kal’Reegar had been the marine from Haestrom, and from what he said (be it his speech or his gestures and other body language), he had been outraged that Tali was charged with something as bad as a treason. He clearly smelt the proverbial rat in this charade; even if he tried to lighten his words by saying he’s just a soldier.

The admirals soon decided that two hours are enough to proclaim Shepard, Tali and Grunt dead, and no matter how strongly Sira fought against that decision, she was told that as only a crew member of Normandy she has no word in the court, and the admirals resumed the whole trial, even if Admiral Xen protested against it.

“We need to face facts. There has been no word; there is no reason to think that Shepard and Tali’Zorah survived.”

“It had been only few hours!”

“Shepard was right. Springing the information about the trial at Tali…”

Sira was just thinking up ways how to disturb the proceedings, as they had been arguing about exiling Tali posthumously, when the door opened and in came the Normandy team. _‘Talk about the best timing ever,’_ she through with a small grin.

“Sorry we’re late,” sounded Tali’s voice, her tone heavy with sarcasm.

“You sure didn’t waste any time to declare us dead,” added Allison, shrugging. “Oh, by the way, you can retake your ship now.”

Jane Shepard vas Normandy was not only good soldier. She was also one hell of a speaker, and when Sira watched her rallying the crowd, swaying their opinions in Tali’s favour, she couldn’t be more proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by name of one absolutely awesome cartoon about robots trying to overthrow humanity.


	12. Captured!

 

When Tali’s name was cleared, Shepard ordered a ship-wide shore leave, before the Reaper IFF would be installed – everyone got kicked off the ship in rotations, and was free to roam the Citadel for as long as they desired.

Sira dragged Shepard with her on shopping, Kasumi dropping by as well, as they went to pick some new dress for Shepard. “For the victory celebration, you know,” they told the worried Commander with a wink, sharing a conspiring smile.

Thing was, Shepard didn’t mind shopping – in less than three stores. Sadly, she was at the mercy of two shopaholics on a mission to pick out new perfect dress for her, and so far, none of the dresses fit all the parameters they had set. If the dress had the cut, it didn’t have the material they wanted. If it had the material, it didn’t have the colour. If it had the colour and the material, then the cut had been absolutely wrong and didn’t fit Allison’s figure at all.

Finally, in what seemed to be the very last store on whole of the Citadel, they finally found dress which fitted Allison like a glove, with just the perfect cut, pleasant material and colour that accentuated Shepard’s eyes. They also bought her another pumps to go with the dress; the heel not very high, but still very stylish. Kasumi took her leave once the purchase had been complete, excusing herself, stating she needed to do some shopping herself, leaving Sira in Shepard’s company, as the Commander dressed into her new attire, so they could have some time to themselves while dressed in style.

As she looked at herself into the mirror, she couldn’t help but think what Kaidan would say, if he could see her now. In the short time they were (or weren’t, she wasn’t so sure now) together, they never had exactly an opportunity to dress up in anything but the dress uniforms.

If only he could see her now!

Would he blush? He always did blush when she flirted with him, his eyes looking everywhere but her, his right hand coming up to scratch at his neck, giving away his nervousness. But when those eyes focused on her, darkened by desire and hunger, it was her who was blushing, breathing heavily and trembling; trembling for his touch, for the sound of his voice, for his mere presence.

Knowing what he thought of her now, the memory of his eyes closed off and distant as they looked at her before he took his leave on her… it hurt her back then, and it was hurting her now. She understood his point of view, his reasoning and his hurt at what he viewed as her not letting him know she’s alive, leaving him to mourn her.

“Hey,” sounded quiet voice by her side. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she turned towards Sira, who had been holding her elbow, steering her to the nearest bar. “Out of those thoughts, my friend – today, we are going to have a drink, while we complain about the bastard that pays our alcohol and sends us into one trap after another and about the bastards who were not worthy of our time but we still gave it to them.”

“Sure,” she heard herself answer, her lips creating a small smile. Sira knew how it felt to be left behind.

Today, they will hate everything related to testosterone, complain about men and saying how they do not need them, all the while they drool over some examples of manliness. Just two women in a bar, having a good time; not the first human Spectre and Hero of Ferelden.

She was looking forward to the drinks, although she felt she will need more than just a few drinks way too soon.

**-o.O.o-**

“How’s the ship, Joker?”

The pilot pivoted in his infamous leather seat to face the Commander. “All systems functional, all possible upgrades installed, we got as much fuel as we could fit into our fuel tanks, the number of probes is showing as full to the brim, we got so many mineral resources that we could build several smaller ships just from what we are carrying around.” He waved his hands dramatically. “All we need is to install the Reaper IFF, and we can hop right into the Omega Four relay, Commander, to say hello to uncle Collector.”

EDI interrupted. “Commander, while the Reaper IFF is being installed, it would be best if you travelled to your next location by shuttle, as the Normandy needs to remain on the same location.”

“That is true,” added Miranda from the comm. “I suggest we take the team with us, and once we are on the mission site, you can pick whom you want to take with you.”

“Good idea, Miranda,” agreed Allison. “Tell everyone to be ready in one hour.”

“Aye, aya, ma’am.”

“You better get to suit up, Commander,” smirked Joker. “You wouldn’t want to storm mercenary base in your free time clothing, now, would you?”

Allison rolled her eyes at the pilot, shaking her head as she walked towards the lift. She wanted to speak with Sira, invite her for the mission – the younger woman seemed agitated lately, and some shooting might have helped her a bit.

Alas, the fate had been against them in this – when she asked about Sira’s whereabouts, EDI told her she’s currently in sickbay with Doctor Chakwas.

It showed that the reason for agitation hadn’t been lack of adrenaline, but problems with sight Sira seemed to be developing in her right eye. Chakwas said it was some infection which shouldn’t cause much trouble if caught in time, which Sira just barely managed to do, but it also meant she wasn’t supposed to strain the eye for several days – with her style of fighting it made any combat absolutely impossible.

Sira patted Allison’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry about me, woman,” she said affectionately. “Before you know it, I’m back in action with nearly brand new eye!”

She also went to wish them good luck when they took off, and then went to exchange ridiculous stories with Joker on the bridge. It showed as a very, very smart move.

**-o.O.o-**

“You as bored as me?”

“I bet I would win a championship in being bored – really, Joker, how can you call yourself that when you are not funny at all right now?”

“’Boring Miraculous Pilot’ doesn’t have the same sound, my dear woman, and really, just because I’m not delivering my witty one-liners all the time makes them all the more precious!”

“You tell yourself that, flyboy,” replied Sira, her lips forming a fond smile as she looked at the ‘miraculous pilot’ from her spot on co-pilot chair. She liked the pilot – he reminded her of her friends, of Zevran and Oghren – funny, full of sarcasm and quick wit, as well as the right amount of womanizing ways. She was just telling him some of the funny stories from their journeys during the Blight, snickering over some of Zevran’s innuendo, when EDI interrupted them.

“Mr Moreau, we are transmitting our location.”

“Transmitting to whom?”

As an answer, the huge ship which they encountered at Horizon, and which also attacked them two years ago suddenly appeared from the FTL jump, ominously floating above Normandy. Their ship was by no means small – but compared to that monstrosity it felt like an ant next to an elephant.

“Shit.”

Then a terrible nightmare started – Joker wasn’t exactly sure what happened during those few short (or too long?) minutes before he crawled into the engineering through the maintenance tubes, but several things imprinted themselves into his mind.

Kenneth Donnelly shooting at one of the Collector drones, yelling at him to move, as they will keep the Collectors’ eyes on them.

Kelly Chambers screaming at the top of her lungs, as the Collectors dragged her into one of the empty pods he remembered seeing on the feeds before.

Sira at his side, keeping an eye on Collectors, ready to warn him to slow down or to accelerate his hobble, until they were dragging themselves out of the tube in the engineering when one of the Collector Scions appeared right on top of the stairs, and refused to move. “Go, Joker,” she whispered to him furiously. “I’ll draw that bastard’s attention, so you can slip by and get rid of them bastards.”

“Sira!” he whispered back, the woman just stabbing him with a sharp glance before she ran, screaming, leading the Collector away, her voice carrying over the whole deck, until it ended abruptly with a scream louder than her previous yelling.

Unshackling EDI was only slightly on his mind, the loss of complete crew heavy on his mind – almost heavier than losing Shepard all those months ago.

**-o.O.o-**

“You lost the entire crew?”

“I know – I was here, remember?”

“We did everything we could, Jeff.”

“And do not even get me started on unshackling the AI!”

“And what should I do?” roared Joker. “Break my arm at them? That sure would have dramatic effect – hey, you Collector bastard, hear my bones snap!”

“Enough!” snapped Shepard, her head killing her. The mission they went on had been one hell of an idiotic milk run, nothing of importance happening, and then came this. The whole crew captured by the Collectors, only Joker and EDI remaining from those who had been left on the ship, while they flew their merry way to some nameless planet in the middle of nowhere.

“Are you alright, Joker?” she asked gently, laying her hand on Joker’s shoulder. Usually, the pilot would make a good impersonation of a teenager, who is too angsty to let anyone touch him, but given the state of mind he was in, he actually leaned into the touch, his eyes closed for a moment.

“I’m good, Commander,” he said, opening his eyes again. “EDI’s fine – helped me save the Normandy.”

“That makes the time of going through the Omega Four relay rather clear,” said Allison, her voice thoughtful. “Those bug-eyed bastards hope that this will break our backbone, break our resolve – I suggest we prove them wrong.”

“Orders, Commander?” asked Joker hopefully. Allison smirked. “Immediately set course for Omega Nebula. EDI?” she turned towards the blue globe signalling the AI was listening. “Get me Aria on the comm – we will need some supplies, and if she could have those prepared for us, it would save us whole lot of time.”

“Of course, Shepard. Ready to connect you when you are.”

“Others,” she turned towards her rather stunned looking team, “rest. We got several hours left, and I want every single one of you in top shape.” She paused in her speech. “We are going to get them back – and then we are going to kick some serious ass.”

With ‘aye, aye, Commander’ everyone cleared the room, leaving Allison to make her calls in peace. Omega’s Queen sounded just like always – unsympathetic and definitely uninterested in everything that happened outside her station; still, she promised to have the supplies ready, and for surprisingly good price.

Shepard was just leaving the communication room, when EDI announced another call coming in. “Admiral Hackett requests connection.”

“Alright,” agreed Shepard. “Connect him to my room, once I get there.”

“As you wish, Commander.”

Admiral Hackett looked tired, tired and worried. He went directly after the reason of his call, and Shepard felt her heart fell at his words. Doctor Kenson, one of Admiral’s close friends, had been studying Prothean artefacts in Batarian Space, and got caught. At this time she’s probably tortured, and Hackett was asking for her retrieval from the prison – in single woman mission, since sending a whole team in wouldn’t end well, if they were caught. It would look like it was a personal favour from one friend to another, if Shepard went alone.

But for the very first time, Shepard couldn’t do this mission for Hackett. “I’m sorry, Admiral, but I can’t.” At the surprised silence on the other side, she looked up to his face and finished: “Collectors just kidnapped my entire crew, only Joker was saved. I need to get after them through the Omega Four relay, and it’s unclear when we will come back. Whether at all we will come back.”

“You sure made career out of running into suicide missions, didn’t you?” asked Hackett with understanding laced into his voice, prompting her to nod. “Yes, sir. Those are my crew – we do not know what the Collectors do to the people they abduct, but it can’t be anything nice. I’m sorry I can’t help your friend – but my crew comes first.”

“Understood. Get them back in one piece and give the Collectors a what for.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Hackett out.”

The screen went back to its usual display of her ship models. Part of her felt relieved how well he took her refusal, and the other part was worried sick about her crew. EDI showed her some footage of the whole abduction – no wonder Joker had been so quiet; seeing that would make everyone, not just snarky pilots, quiet.

“Commander,” sounded the AI’s voice, breaking her daydreaming. “Jeff requesting entrance to your quarters.”

“Let him in.”

“Acknowledged. Logging you out, Shepard.”

Joker came in, looking around as nearly everyone who entered the loft for the very first time. “Sheesh, if I knew this is what Cerberus had stored for the Commander, I would become one, too.”

“And it would be marvellous – you would witty-one-lined everyone into their deaths,” responded Shepard drily. She watched the pilot fumble for words he obviously wanted to say, but didn’t quite know how to say them, until he just blurted them out.

“What is it with you and saving my brittle bony ass?”

Allison just blinked in surprise. “I’m sorry?” She asked, not understanding where he was coming from.

“I mean – first you get killed when you save my ass from the first Normandy, and now Sira – who is just another version of you – lets herself get captured by the Collectors, so I get to the engineering and unshackle EDI. Why do you do that?”

Allison tapped her forefinger against her lower lip, thinking. “I can’t speak for Sira,” she started slowly, “but I remember thinking ‘no one gets left behind’. Oh, and I also gave you direct order to evacuate, so I was quite looking forward to give you a chewing for ignoring that.”

Laying her hand on Joker’s shoulder, she said lightly: “knowing Sira, she just thought that she’s crap at driving, and that it would be damn better to keep you at the helm of this ship.”

The pilot gave her shocked look. “I think you nailed it, Commander – I know how you drive. How much better could your alternate version from medieval world be at the steering wheel?!” He gave her a small smile; rare and genuine quick of his lips. “Thanks, Commander. I won’t let any of the two of you down. I’ll let you know when we are half an hour from the relay, so you could suit up to deliver a swift kick right into the beasties’ faces.”

“’Beasties?’” wondered Allison aloud, EDI helpfully supplying an answer. “According to my records, ‘beasties’ was term often used by Sira, when she spoke of Darkspawn and explained the ways how to fight them.”

“Thanks, EDI. That will be all for now.”

“Logging you out, Shepard.”

Shepard seated herself by her work desk with a glass of brandy in her hand, her eyes sliding through the display, lingering on the model ships she and Sira placed there to make the whole space a bit more accommodating.

“Really, Allison, you got space, so take those ships from their boxes and show them off,” the other woman would say, her eyes always knowingly looking at the photo frame on the desk; Kaidan’s face gazing at her from the holo. “There needs to be something else, not just him.”

And so she sat there, recalling every single funny conversation she could think of, letting her body relax into the images in her mind. She must have moved to her bed some time after that, because when she came to again, she was in her bed, laying on the covers, the last remnants of a pleasant dream about sunny days and cool drinks in her mind.

“Commander, ETA for Omega Four relay is 30 minutes.”

“Copy that, Joker,” she said, jumping out of her bed.

She will get her crew back. And then… then she will get drunk as skunk together with them, toasting the collective awesomeness.

Because as Sira liked to yell time to time when she was accompanying them on a mission: “We are ridiculously awesome!”


	13. Collecting the Collectors

 

The Normandy transmitted the newly installed Reaper IFF right before they entered the infamous Omega Four relay. The relay was surrounded by ominous stories of ships never returning, and its unusual red colour – instead of the usual calming blue – only added to the chill those stories were giving to everyone who listened.

Now they floated just out of the range of its mass effect field, waiting for the final word to start assault at Collector base. Everyone was suited up, fully stocked on ammunition, with weapons ready at hand, only waiting for Shepard’s orders.

She gripped the back of Joker’s seat. “Let’s make it happen.”

“Reaper IFF activated,” intoned EDI. “Signal acknowledged.”

With a deep breath, Joker called up the controls, moving the ship forward – and then the mass effect field got hold of them and they were moving through space right into the very centre of Milky Way galaxy.

If anyone asked any of them later how they managed to land on Collector base relatively unscathed, no one would be able to tell them any details. Thanks to all the upgrades installed to the Normandy, they were able to survive the sustained damage with no casualties as they manoeuvred through the debris field they found themselves in once the mass effect field released them on the other side of the relay.

The ships they nearly crashed into were massive and ancient from the looks of them; the wreckage was a very effective way to keep intruders away from the base itself – unless you had fully upgraded Normandy with Jeff Joker Moreau at its helm. Even after the automated system got after them, he was able to outmanoeuvre most of the drones; only one of them got into Normandy, punching its way right through the wall of the cargo hold. They successfully got rid of that one, too, in quite short fire fight, and then the way to the base itself had been clean.

Just before they could land on the base itself, the Collectors launched their last line of defence – the Collector ship they encountered so many times before. But this time, they came prepared – the Thanix cannon showing to be just the perfect weapon against those sons of bitches. Two shots in places where it hurt and the ship exploded.

It seemed that the Collectors didn’t count on the possibility of anyone getting through, so no systems got alerted to their presence, as they crash landed on one of the platforms, quickly separating into teams. One team, lead by Garrus, would do their best to attract Collector fire and attention at themselves, while the other team, led by Shepard, would sneak through the back door, loading support to their infiltration specialist, Kasumi.

Allison looked over her shoulder at her two companions, Legion and Grunt. The fighting will be tough, she was sure of it, but she got the best team at her six.

She silently vowed to herself not to leave anyone behind, and then the shooting began.

**-o.O.o-**

Lots of bullets fired and several very close calls with baking Kasumi in the thermal vent before they managed to open the gates so she could move forward to open the gates to the central chamber, so their infiltration could continue. They were nearly out of ammo, when the door finally opened, grinning Kasumi behind them.

The problems came when the door refused to close, and one of the Collectors managed to shoot at Kasumi. For a moment, Shepard was afraid the thief was killed, when she just jumped to her feet and grumbled about rude and mean Collectors who do not mind hitting girls.

They found themselves in a chamber full of the strange Collector pods, with some strange tubes leading from them to somewhere up. Allison went towards one and wiped some of the water condensed on its surface. Inside had been young woman, obviously young one, with black hair. Suddenly, she opened her eyes to look up directly at Shepard, and before anyone could do anything, some liquid started to pour down at the woman.

And the woman’s skin started to liquefy, the woman screaming and pounding at the pod lid.

“Get them out! Now! Get them out!” screamed Shepard as she ran to the next pod, pounding the butt of her shotgun against the lid, successfully cracking it open. Inside was one of the security guys. She caught him as he fell forward, his muscles weakened after his stay in the pod, and quickly moved towards another of the pods, just like everyone else. Crack! Inside had been Doctor Chakwas.

The Doctor seemed to be badly shaken, and looked up at Shepard with wonder written all over her face. “You came for us,” she said. Allison gave her a small smile. “You bet I did. No one gets left behind.”

The crew didn’t seem to quite believe they are still alive, and that Shepard made it into the base in time before they followed the suite of the unlucky colonists who were abducted before them. As someone pointed out, it had been months since the last abduction, so this… processing thing had to take quite a long time, leaving the victims alive for their painful death.

None of them had been in any shape to fight, as Mordin pointed out after quick examination. Shepard decided quickly that he, as the only other doctor they had at their disposal will accompany them back to the Normandy, first helping them along the way and then helping Chakwas to take care of possible injuries.

Sira was sitting on one of the pods, her left hand covering her right eye, but when Shepard moved towards her, she looked up and quirked a smile. “Nice to see you, Allison,” she muttered. “You truly are sight for sore eyes – or, rather, sore eye,” she added with a grimace. She stood up once it was decided that the teams will once again split – one moving through the seeker swarms with biotic barrier raised, the other distracting the Collectors.

“Do you think you could say some part of that chant of yours, Sira?” requested Kelly. Remembering the effect of the chant on David, the victim of Overlord project, Allison quickly nodded. The chant surely could ease the strained nerves of kidnapped crew, as well as bolster the spirits of the team as a whole, no matter how tough they tried to look.

Sira quickly thought of what part would be appropriate for the situation. Deciding on one, she lowered her hand from her eye, clasping them before herself, the other humans quickly following her on the gesture.

She intoned; her voice clear and precise. “Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

Everyone seemed to perk up a little, even if Legion seemed a bit confused at this particular part of Chant. Before they took up, Sira reached to Allison and clasped one of her hands. “In war, victory,” she told her, the words falling from her lips like a promise, before she ran together with the rest of the crew. For a brief moment Allison allowed to worry over her crew, and then her mind was once again fully set on the task at hand.

Pick one of the biotics to provide the barrier. She thought for a moment of her options – the best options would be Samara or Jack, as those two were the strongest of biotics available, with Samara still being the better option, since she had centuries to practice her powers.

Pick leader of the distraction team. She once again picked Garrus – if anyone knew how to provide good team distraction, it was him with his experiences as Archangel. His blue eyes conveyed to her something he wouldn’t dare to say aloud – I’ll do my best to keep them distracted. I will not fail you. Come through all of this in one piece.

She picked Jack and Tali with her, thinking them the best options for the infiltration through the seeker swarms.

Samara inhaled deeply before raising her hands and calling up the barrier. In her mind she prayed to the goddess that she would manage to keep the barrier up, protecting everyone. With barrier up, the small group moved forward, the seeker swarms soon swarming around them, trying to pass through the barrier, making Samara to reinforce it.

Soon, enemies apart from the swarms made themselves visible – mostly husks and Collector drones, those quickly being possessed by this Harbinger being that assumed control over their bodies and transformed them into something Shepard preferred not to know everything about.

But Samara was starting to be exhausted by keeping the barrier up and reinforced. She gritted her teeth. She will not yield to the exhaustion; she will keep the barrier up if it should kill her – Shepard counted on her, and she would not disappoint the Commander.

“I won’t be able to hold it for long,” she warned the Commander, everyone speeding up as she said the words. Suddenly, there had been a bridge towards next platform with door to next chamber. Everyone went running towards it; shooting around at everything that moved.

They made it there just in time before Samara collapsed. In the last remnant of energy still in her body, she pushed the barrier back, destroying the swarms closest to it by the sudden surge of biotic energy.

The teams united once again, everyone knowing that there will be no coming back, if they didn’t succeed. Everyone wished good luck to everyone, shaking hands and patting each other’s back. Time for the last push came, and Shepard was about to lead them to the final fight.

With Tali and Jack she ran forward, the rest once again covering them with their guns and powers.

**-o.O.o-**

Shepard couldn’t quite believe what she was looking at. Huge construction; proto-Reaper that looked like unfinished human body – skull, two eyes, ribcage and backbone, with tubes with the sickly grey liquid pouring through them.

EDI’ voice cracked in the speakers. “Shepard, I suggest to break the tubes – the proto-Reaper will not be able to keep up in its position, and will be destroyed in the fall.”

Before Shepard could say anything, Joker’s voice cracked in the comm link. “Everyone made it to the Normandy, Commander. The Illusive Man is on line, putting him through.”

In one moment of indecisiveness, Shepard thought of her options –destroying the base, or keeping it for later study?

She could hear Sira’s voice in her head, telling her to think with her head, not with her heart. And in that moment, she knew she had to keep the base, so the further study would give them an advantage against the Reapers, urging the ship’s AI to hack her way into the Collectors’ systems and mine every little piece of data she can find there.

Then the proto-Reaper made its sudden reappearance from somewhere under the platform, and she had completely different matters on her mind.

**-o.O.o-**

It felt way too good to tell her goodbye to the Illusive Man. That bastard didn’t even look surprised when she told him their cooperation is over, his lips forming a smug smile actually. His resistance to her decision had been clearly of only token value, his mind no doubt already thinking up all the way he could study it at, and what he could find at the station, since it was now completely clean from any living Collectors.

Just thinking about them, about what they used to be so many thousands of years ago made her sick. Once probably a very proud race, now degraded to unthinking drones with no culture, no free will – clones of clones of clones, fulfilling orders of those who once enslaved them.

Once she was finished with her ‘boss’, she went to check on her crew, on her way down she read some of the reports Joker already wrote for her.

So, first of all, the ship needed repairs. Badly. Even with all the upgrades, the ship certainly got kicked around quite a bit, and until they spend some money on repairs, the ship wouldn’t be able to put much of a fight against the Reapers.

Second, EDI managed to download quite a lot of data from the base, already compiling it into several packages, ready to be sent Alliance way once they got out of the Omega Four relay again.

Third, everyone, her included, is to be ordered to rest once all the injuries are taken care of. EDI could mind the store for several hours, before someone had to get on duty again. But until then – rest.

Right now, everyone was gathered in the mess hall, having at least a quick meal before they head to their bunks, with Mordin running all around with his omnitool up, scanning everyone just for the better feel of their condition. There had been several broken bones, lots of scratches, contusions and bruises, but apart from that, only Sira had been forced to stay in medbay.

It looked like the Collector kidnapping sure didn’t do well for her sick eye, and while neither Mordin nor Chakwas did say it out loud, they were afraid that if a miracle doesn’t happen, and soon, she will lose it due to the infection that set in it.

Allison decided not to think about it yet, although her stomach sunk a bit at the news.

**-o.O.o-**

Two days later, Allison found herself in front of sickbay again; this time waiting for results of Sira’s surgery. The eye couldn’t be saved, so Mordin and Chakwas decided to remove it before the infection spread to the other eye as well.

Sira sure wasn’t overjoyed about it, but thought one eye was still better than no eye at all. Chakwas thought that she was trying to cope with the loss of the eye to the best of her ability, and was ready to schedule her for some counselling before they got her artificial eye but it seemed like they would run out of time sooner than they could actually do that.

The news of Alpha relay in Batarian space being destroyed, together with the whole system it was in, hit the news with a vengeance of tornado. That was when Hackett contacted her again, his face tired. Obviously, the team he sent in the Batarian space blew the relay up, and while Alliance was still piecing their reasoning from the transmission they sent together, it was quite apparent the Reaper threat Kenson spoke about before she got captured held more than just a piece of truth to it.

She will be needed back at Earth, and the quicker she gets there, the better.

She was already decided that she would return to the Alliance once the Collector threat was dealt with, but Hackett warned her that the situation is more complicated than she thought. Given her acquaintance with known terrorist organisation, she would more likely be tried and questioned, instead of just being accepted with open arms. The Admiral cautioned her not to take too long, if she plans on returning to Earth, but at the same time, it would be wise to lay some groundwork for fighting the Reapers.

Because fight them they will. And probably soon, way too soon.


	14. Breaking of the Fellowship

 

The day Sira got implanted new eye was also the day Shepard announced her intention to surrender to Alliance, prompting everyone to either leave the ship to go after their own business, or join her in the surrender.

It came as no surprise that the crew had been outraged in the beginning, but once the idea sunk in, they came to see the reasons behind the decision. Most of the human crew elected to leave and pursue their own things – something quite understandable in someone who possibly left everything just to become a part of a terrorist organisation. Miranda, Jacob and Kelly were the first ones to leave, their ties with Cerberus dangerous to them, especially now, when they have officially broken them.

Mordin decided to return to STG once again, Allison thought she heard him mention some favours he intended to cash out to carry on some projects. Tali wanted to return to the Migrant Fleet to join her people once again. Legion, when asked of its intentions wanted to return to the geth, and inform the rest of his race of the Reapers. Garrus was clear about what he wanted – come back to Palaven and bother everyone long enough for them to finally start doing something to prepare for the war with the Reapers. Jack didn’t know what she wanted to do – but as long as it meant tearing enemies apart, it sounded like a good idea to her. Kasumi wanted to follow up on the leads Keiji gave to her in her last moments with the grey box. Zaeed wanted to look for parts for his beloved gun Jessie, and if he found Vido along the way, he would be content with it as well. Thane wanted to spend the little time he had left with his son, rebuilding what was once lost, and live the rest of his life in peace. Grunt wanted to return to Tuchanka, and explore what it meant to be a true krogan with his new clan, clan Urdnot. He was eager to prove himself to his people, and as Allison thought of it, she felt it was just a matter of time before he kicks everyone on their ass, if the dare to throw him being a tank-born into his face. Samara wanted to return fully to her order, her promise fulfilled.

Sira was unsure what to do. She wasn’t part of the Cerberus – but given the fact she shared DNA with Shepard, it would be a very short time before she got suspected of being a sleeping agent sent by Cerberus, intended to steal Shepard’s identity, and imprisoned. No one, and least of all her, did want that, so after some really hard brainstorming they came up with the best possible solution – she will join Liara, helping the asari with tying up any loose ends she might have on Illium, and join her in preparations for the Reapers.

The Normandy had been empty, apart from the few people still on board. Doctor Chakwas was securing the medbay, cleaning it up. The engineers were finishing the necessary reports on Normandy’s new Tantalus core, as well as for the rest of the upgrades installed. Joker was doing something on the bridge, discussing this something quietly with EDI. Sira and Shepard were sitting in the loft, Sira packing the few things in her belongings, while Allison speculated how long it will take before the Alliance officials pull their collective heads out of their collective asses and look through the Cerberus stuff and see the real threat.

“Shepard, the ETA for Illium is twenty minutes,” sounded EDI’s voice.

The two women went to the elevator, no words exchanged between them as they walked towards the airlock. Liara was already waiting for them, so the farewells had been short, Sira walking away by Liara’s side.

She looked back over her shoulder; her artificial eye shimmering playfully as she smiled at Allison for the last time before the airlock closed behind her.

The time was up, though. Now, all they had to do was to set course for Arcturus station, where Hackett was already waiting for them.

It came a bit as a surprise, though, when the one who came to accept her surrender had been Anderson, back in Alliance uniform, the stars on his shoulder showing his new rank – Admiral. Her former Captain smiled at her, relieved to see her in one piece after what Hackett told him was a suicide mission.

Still, many things were before them, and while she wasn’t immediately thrown in a brig, she ended with handcuffs on her wrists, with a marine assigned as her bodyguard – or guardian. She didn’t really think of it.

James Vega was at times the only tie she had with outside world, once she had been relocated to Vancouver, no one either willing or allowed to see her; she didn’t know which one of these options would be more painful. Only Hackett or Anderson checked in on her, sometimes bringing her something to read, or at least to bring some news from her trial.

She hated being in her glorified cell. With her ship taken from her, with her rank stripped and her reputation once again pulled through mud she was restless. In the six months of her incarceration the tribunal was unable to come to any decision regarding her or the Reapers.

Then, in the sixth month of her ‘stay’ on mother Earth, James came in her room, saluting her with the same sharpness he did half a year ago, and took her to see the tribunal again. Anderson was already waiting for her, and as she said her farewells to the marine, thanking him for his support, suddenly, a familiar voice sounded behind her.

“Shepard?”


	15. The Martian Chronicles

 

It was almost laughable how easily the Reapers went through Earth defences, cutting through them as a knife would cut through melted butter. One moment she feels butterflies in her stomach from seeing Kaidan again, the next she stands before the tribunal, half expecting them to have her just repeat her version of everything that happened in the last months, when the whole meeting is interrupted by new and disturbing report – contact with Luna had been lost.

And next moment, Reaper itself lands just in the middle of Vancouver, its red ray of destruction burning its way through the buildings, until it arrived to the Alliance battery.

In matter of seconds, the whole tribunal was dead, and she was limply lying against the wall, her ears ringing after the explosion that had thrown her there.

“Shepard!”

At least Anderson survived. He helped her to her feet, calling the Normandy at the same time, commanding them to wait for them in the airport, the instructions changing quickly as the Reapers started tearing through the city.

This whole running to the rendezvous point was one of the moments she was bloody grateful to Miranda for every single Cerberus upgrade in her body; even after all those months of minimal physical activity (she had been allowed only two hours of workout per week), she still was in a good shape, and all the running around didn’t make her unable to catch her breath. Nor did the terrible falls she found herself in broke any of her bones – although she was quite sure that once the adrenalin washes off of her blood stream, her body will be painfully aware of every single bruise she managed to get.

When they reached crash site of one frigate, there had been several soldiers defending themselves there – all of them crew of the downed frigate, some of them looking shell-shocked at seeing what monstrosities were raining from the skies, others facing the things which probably used to be batarians with grim determination.

That was what led Anderson to remain on Earth when the Normandy made it to the new rendezvous point. He refused to let the still fighting humans alone, instead ordering Shepard to get to the Citadel and gather help.

As the ship flew away, she saw a small boy get into one of the evacuation shuttles, one of the marines helping him inside before he locked the door and the shuttle took off. In matter of seconds, the Reaper shot the shuttles down, killing everyone inside.

And Shepard knew that if they didn’t get help, and soon, everyone will end just like that boy.

**-o.O.o-**

James Vega wasn’t happy about the decision to leave help. But Allison’s mood was no better than his, so when he asked for an explanation, she nearly punched him when he demanded he be left behind on Earth.

He fell in line after she snapped at him that she would like nothing than to stay on Earth and fight as well, but at least he was silent.

Instead, it was Kaidan who started to question her every move afterwards.

When they jumped to Mars, on Hackett’s orders to retrieve Doctor T’Soni and her assistant from the Prothean archives, they ran into bunch of Cerberus troops. That was when the questioning started. In the beginning Allison didn’t quite get what he was hinting at, but after he finally openly asked her how is it possible that she doesn’t know Cerberus’ intentions on Mars, when she is practically one of them, it finally kicked in.

After a while, the repeating of _‘I do not know what they are after in here, because I never had officially been part of Cerberus’_ got a bit annoying, especially after Vega confirmed that she had been in no outside contact ever since she returned to the Alliance after destroying the Collectors.

Once they got into the main lab building, built short distance from the archives themselves, they heard some strange noises from the tubes above them – as if someone was trying to move quickly through them because someone was at their heels.

Suddenly, the emergency hatch fell down, and out of the tube jumped rather harried looking Liara, quickly summoning Singularity and easily disposing of the troops caught in it.

This reunion had been certainly more pleasant for Allison, Liara obviously happy, as well as relieved, to see her – yet before she could say anything more than that her assistant is still somewhere in the labs, there sounded loud screams, obviously made by a woman on the edge of hysterical attack. Few second later, there had been woman with long dark chestnut hair, dressed in silver-blue science suit, running out of one of the corridors leading to the garage they had been in, her hands wildly flailing all around her, several Cerberus troops hot on her heels, as she screamed all hell.

Before any of them could do anything, one of the woman’s hands slid down to her belt, and in a blink, she turned around, throwing something on the ground and disappearing in a cloud of smoke, confusing the troops a bit – only to appear behind one of them, breaking his neck in several practiced moves, disappearing in shadows again and repeating the manoeuvre on the other trooper as well. The third appeared to be a bit of a challenge – but in the end, he had been dead on the ground as well, blood pouring from the stab wound on his lower back.

“Sira!” exclaimed Liara. The woman looked up, ready to attack, when her eyes fell on the woman in black armour by her side.

“Allison!” she cried out, the omni blade switching off, as the two women fell into each other’s arms, apart for all those months and worried sick over the other one all the time.

When they broke the embrace, Allison took a closer look at her friend. She grew her hair, and now wore it in yet another rather impractical (but definitely very classy) hairdo, the eye she lost half a year ago still having unnatural colour shade, masked by the visor she wore over it.

Sira quickly relayed any bit of information she could remember from her run through the labs. It sadly wasn’t much, mostly it carried on the note of “they are mostly in groups of three, moving through the labs and shooting everything that moves and is not on their ‘must be kept alive list’” but it was still more than they had just a moment ago.

That was the moment Vega decided to chime in, asking about something rather trivial, and called the women’s attention to him. “Huh, they really make them bigger than usual these days, eh?” blurted the assistant, eyeing him from top to toe with interest. Then her eyes slid towards Kaidan and her whole posture stiffened.

She only said two words. “Ah. _You.”_ But it was still quite enough to convey what she thought about him, making Kaidan bristle at the statement. When asked at how she managed to lure these troops after her, she just smirked and told them she used a little bit of knowledge her friend once gave her about men, and obviously, it still worked, no matter the time and space.

There was no time for further speaking, as the Cerberus troopers obviously made their way towards the garage.

Vega had been eager to fight – but to his great dismay Shepard just sent him back to their shuttle, sending Sira with him, to keep an eye on the enemy troops, and to block their way, if anyone but them tried to escape the archives. Steaming Vega just stomped to the elevator which would take them one floor down and then all the way to their shuttle, Sira running after him, but not before she patted Allison’s shoulder one last time.

Shepard prepared for another bout of questioning, but for the moment, they had enemy troopers to find, so Kaidan kept silent for a short time, granting her nerves at least a short time of reprieve.

**-o.O.o-**

Meanwhile, as Shepard, Alenko and T’soni continued further into the labs, Vega was angrily marching to the shuttle they used not so long ago. He was so angry that if any Cerberus soldier would be still out here, he would probably rip them apart with his bare hands – like this, though, he just had to cool down on his own.

 _‘So much for showing off your fighting abilities, amigo,’_ he thought bitterly, his eyes stealing a glance at the woman that Shepard sent with him, and immediately did a double-take.

She looked just like Commander Shepard – only younger, with longer hair and slightly differently pronounced figure – where Shepard had been tight muscles, this one seemed to be soft; like a cat. She was currently busy typing something away on her omnitool, eyebrows pulled down in a frown.

Looking up, she noticed his stare and quirked one of her eyebrows. “Is there anything I can do for you,” she paused, looking for any sign of his rank, and finding none at her quick scan, she just continued, “soldier? Or do you just like what you see?”

No, he refused to blush at her obvious come-on. “I want to know who the hell are you,” he blurted, earning himself a sardonic grimace and a deep sigh. “In short,” the woman said, “my name is Sira Cousland, and at this time, I had been assigned as personal assistant of doctor Liara T’Soni, when she was asked by Admiral Hackett to help the scientists look through the archives for anything that could help us fighting against the Reapers.”

The comm link cracked to life; Shepard was asking for an update – but due to the incoming storm, the signal had been patchy at best and when he was repeating what he just said, the signal cleared off completely, leaving them guessing what exactly was happening at the labs, or hopefully, at the archives.

Cousland was meanwhile leaving him alone, her eyes closed as she rested on one of the seats, completely uncaring about the blood drying on her suit. Vega knew number of women who would already be fainting just at the sight of blood, and while it was clear that this woman was not a marine like him, there was something almost predatory about the way she dealt with the Cerberus troops that had been pursuing her sooner.

Suddenly, the comm cracked to life again, desperately shouting Shepard calling anyone who would listen to stop someone from taking off. In that moment, that Cousland woman was already buckled up, fully awake as the shuttle took off and rammed the shuttle that was taking off from the archives. The impact throw them both against their seatbelts; he being slightly better off because of his armour, while the woman was gingerly touching her ribs as she quickly unfastened her seatbelt and moved to the shuttle door.

Obviously, the nightmare that started by Reaper invading Earth was still not finished – from the burning shuttle he just rammed down exited a robot, kicking the door open and immediately jumping towards Alenko, who quickly pushed T’Soni aside. The robot grabbed him by the helmet and lifted the man in the air, as it asked for further instruction. Upon receiving them, the robot started to bash the Major against the shuttle hull, and once deeming the damage to the biotic sufficient, dropping him to the ground and running towards Shepard.

The Commander had just barely managed to disable the robot before it reached her, obviously shaken and distressed by what had transpired in the archives and now here on the landing platform.

Lifting the Major up, she commanded Vega to pick the robot up for later examination, quickly taking off and flying back to the Normandy to report to Hackett and then finally leaving the Local cluster for the Serpent Nebula.

The Reaper invasion just started – but if Liara was right, they already had something what could save them all, if they played their cards right. Sira just prayed it would be enough.

So far, they only got half-assed promises of _‘maybe some time in the future, we would be able to help you – but only once our own home worlds are secured’_ from the Councillors; their own Councillor, Donnell Udina, if Sira remembered correctly, stewing in anger over his colleagues’ unwillingness to help against something they were always warned of against, and yet always chose to overlook.

But suddenly, there was a small ray of hope – Turian Councillor came to Udina’s office, claiming he may be able to help, and told them to secure Turian Primarch.

Sira grimaced. _‘Just like when I was supposed to bring back Branka,’_ she though, enjoying the irony. ‘ _Good to know that some things, no matter the time and space, do not change. Like – ever.’_ She just hoped that this time, they will not walk all throughout the tunnels that would one day become their graves.

That night, Allison dreamed of foggy forests, and child’s laughter, chasing a small boy among the trees, only to wake up drenched in cold sweat, heart hammering inside her chest.

On the other side of the room, Sira slumbered, undisturbed by dreams that woke Allison up. For a moment Allison envied her, but then scowled at herself for that thought. At least someone will be completely fresh tomorrow – all gods of this space must have known that, and she prayed to any of them that would listen for it being enough.


	16. Primarch of His Kind

 

Finding one special Turian in home cluster of all turians was probably even more of a ‘needle in a haystack’ situation than her own search for Sten’s sword in country in the middle of a civil war. It certainly wasn’t getting any better, because the line of succession was getting shorter by each second of the fight, whole platoons being wiped out of existence by each of Reaper’s ray.

It certainly didn’t help matters that the husks were swarming the area around damaged communication tower, preventing the turians from repairing it. They shot their way through, or rather cut their way through in Sira’s case (even if she was much better shoot after those months, when it came to fighting the husks, she still preferred fighting them with a blade, be the blade metallic or omniblade). Liara climbed up, being the only one capable of repairing the tower, the rest of them set out around the tower to prevent the husks from climbing up.

They took some of the pressure from the turians, granting them at least a short moment of reprieve in their fighting, as the General was busily contacting the Command to find out who the next Primarch actually was, since the last known one had been shot off the sky by one of the Reapers.

The new Primarch had been Adrien Victus, and just when they were attempting to contact him, they were interrupted by a familiar voice.

“I knew that the explosions meant you are here. Shepard.”

“Garrus!” Shepard had been overjoyed to see her friend, just as he was happy to see her, if one was to guess from the way his mandibles widened in something they came to recognize as a smile, his hands taking Shepard’s between themselves in affectionate gesture. Just when they were preparing to take off to the last known coordinates of the new Primarch, their comms cracked online, rather panicky sounding Joker saying that the Normandy controls just went completely crazy, Liara quickly suggesting she returns to take a look at that.

The rest of them quickly moved out of the encampment, taking down any Reaper creature they met – husks or something the intel was already referring to as ‘cannibals” , only to be surprised by completely new creatures bearing signs of formerly being turians. Marauders, they called them, and it was scary how hard to kill those creatures had been.

It made Sira sick when she newly realized all the parallels between the Blight and this Reaper invasion.

Later, with the newly appointed Primarch back on the Normandy, Sira was cleaning her weapons in the relocated armoury, and quickly reciting Hespith’s poem, that once gave her even worse nightmares than the Joining ever could.

_First day, they come and catch everyone._   
_Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat._   
_Third day, the men are all gnawed on again._   
_Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate._   
_Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn._   
_Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams._   
_Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew._   
_Eighth day, we hate it as she is violated._   
_Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin._   
_Now she does feast, as she's become the beast._   
_Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams._

She woke drenched in sweat that night, blanket tangled around her like one of the Broodmother’s tentacles, which was what actually woke her up. Not able to get any more sleep (or maybe just unwilling to try again), she went back to the armoury, to get hers and Allison’s armour in the best shape possible.

Good thing that at least taking care of your weaponry had the same calming effect in here as it used to have during the Blight.

And the Canticle she sung through the night… well, Steve, who had been repairing the shuttle, heard it all, but decided not to make his presence know for he knew all too well what it means when the dreams won’t let one sleep.

 _Many are those who wander in sin,_  
Despairing that they are lost forever,  
But the one who repents, who has faith  
Unshaken by the darkness of the world,  
And boasts not, nor gloats  
Over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight  
In the Maker's law and creations, she shall know  
The peace of the Maker's benediction.  
The Light shall lead her safely  
Through the paths of this world, and into the next.  
For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.  
As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,  
She should see fire and go towards Light.  
The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,  
And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker  
Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.


	17. The Diabolist

 

The summit Allison held on the Normandy had been one hell of a pain in the ass. Getting diplomats from krogan, salarians and turians had been tricky as it was – but with at least the salarian side being there just to cause problems and be all holier-than-thou at everyone, it was doomed to end in failure.

‘Get me the krogan support, and you will have support of turian fleet.’

That definitely sounded much easier than it was done. Wrex wouldn’t mind helping someone else out, Shepard knew from experience – but having to help turians, of all possible people?

No way – but if you cure our genophage, we will jump over to Palaven and kick some Reaper ass.

As Allison made her way through the Citadel, where they docked to gather some more supplies and intel, she wandered to the office of Councillor Udina. The man looked busier than she remembered him from before, his brow in nearly constant frown these days, as he furiously typed away on the computer console before him.

When she entered, he looked up and she would swear the tightness around his mouth relaxed a bit at the sight of her. They talked for a bit, their talk surprisingly civil when compared to the usual dislike they felt towards each other. Guess it just took an end of the world hanging above them to see eye to eye.

Donnell Udina seemed much more… human… as he sat in his chair, and recounted what the invasion already cost the humanity. The loss of Alliance council had been just a start – yet it was still a heavy blow to the body that was the Alliance. Just like with the turians – the line of succession became dangerously short.

In a short moment of sympathy, she tapped her finger against his wrist, as his hand lied on the table before him, and the corners of his lips nearly imperceptibly rose up.

Of course, neither of them would ever confess to have a bit of a heart to heart moment with each other, but the memory lingered in their minds, making everything even harder for both of them later.

**-o.O.o-**

Allison was quickly walking through the hospital, Huerta Memorial, when she ran into Sira. “Allison!” the other woman called, immediately lowering her voice at several scandalised hisses. “You came to see Thane, too?”

For a moment, Shepard felt ashamed for not responding to Thane’s letter, even after she read it She completely forgot about the drell, her mind set on paying a visit to Kaidan, who was well enough to be allowed to use his omnitool to message her.

She was thrilled to see the Major alive and out of the danger, even if she dreaded what they might talk about. Sensing her nervousness, Sira just pointed her towards the Sirta Foundation terminal, telling her to purchase the magical Peruvian Whiskey, and left the hospital, leaving the other woman alone with her thoughts.

Kaidan looked good; at least as good as one could look after being nearly beaten to death by a robot Cerberus agent. He also seemed pleased to see her again. To overcome her awkwardness, she quickly gave him the whiskey she purchased, earning herself a small smile from the Major.

He seemed to be eager to get from the hospital, thinking the doctors were keeping him there just for the hell of it – but from what Allison remembered, he had to remain abed for several more weeks before he would be allowed to use his biotic amp again, not to mention run around like crazy, shooting everything right in the face.

Her heart did a back flip in her bosom when he mentioned Mars, and his doubting of her; and doing another one when he asked whether they are good or no. “It just reminds me why I like you,” he said, giving her the so teenager like butterflies in the stomach.

Maybe there was still hope for the two of them. Just maybe.

**-o.O.o-**

Sira had been on the Normandy when Allison took the team to Sur’Kesh to retrieve the fertile krogan female. It didn’t surprise her in the slightest when she heard Cerberus made appearance and tried to kill the only surviving female, ensuring the genophage couldn’t be cured – but trust it to Shepard and company to kick them right in the face and save the day.

The krogan female also seemed like a curious person to be around, especially when in the same room like Mordin.

Mordin called the krogan ‘Eve’, saying that usage of human mythology was perfectly logical on human ship, but Sira herself thought his reasoning went deeper than that. But far it to be from her digging for the reasons the salarian might have. It was good to have him back.

When she talked to Eve one day, she mentioned Grey Wardens being infertile as well; it being part of what they were. Krogan had the genophage, Wardens had the Taint. Both of them had been much wiser because of that – and according to what Mordin said once catching that bit of a conversation, both were curable, given enough time and enough experiments.

“How do you feel,” she asked him one day, “using results of such terrible experiments as those Maelon did on the women?”

“The source of data irrelevant – Eve and her survival important now. Maelon’s data contain key to that. Will use it as necessary.”

She still was chuckling when she remembered how she entered the sickbay to catch him singing to the female. It was moment of precious good mood and humour, and later, she would sing the song to Allison.

 _Oh, better to die to a thresher maw,_  
with shotgun-blasting-roaring-raw,  
than to play ambassadorial games  
with the blood of Shiagur in her veins...  
  
Off to fight, since turians can't  
with diplomats instead of a krantt.  
But she'll be true to Tuchanka's dream  
and live and die a krogan queen!  
  
For... she is the krogan queen!  
Hurrah, hurrah for the krogan queen!  
And it is, it is a glorious thing  
to be the krogan queen!

Of course, she had nothing on Mordin – but if it helped Allison relax for at least a short moment, it was definitely worth it.

**-o.O.o-**

Mordin worked most of his time on curing the genophage. My project, he would think to himself as he analyzed test results, my responsibility.

At the same time, he couldn’t stop himself from running another set of tests; this one on blood samples he gathered from Sira. She mentioned being infertile, and her hormonal levels would support that claim, but something about it still – to use a human phrase – bugged him. It still remained on the far side of all his experiments but soon, he was getting positive results.

Now, only to write it all down, so he could synthesise the gene therapy for her once the genophage is cured. And do it better than Maelon, so someone else might be able to replicate it. Just in case.

**-o.O.o-**

Allison had been content with herself.

Thanks to her new communication specialist, Samantha Traynor, they had been able to step right in the middle of Cerberus plans concerning the brain trust of Alliance teenagers, the Grissom Academy. Well, Jack had sucker punched her in front of everyone, but that still didn’t stop her from grinning like idiot, when she remembered how fondly the biotic spoke of her charges.

They found David, too.

The young man looked way better than he did when they pulled him from the machine that should connect him directly into the VI interface. He was together with two other technical wonders, helping them to keep their barrier up against several Cerberus troops when Allison and her team arrived.

“Square root of 906.01 equals…”

“30.1.”

Sira was overjoyed to see David in one piece, and he seemed to be rather happy to see as well.

She never told the Commander, but David missed his brother terribly. It also only now came to light what Gavin meant when he said “at least he would be alive”, back at the Atlas station.

He was viewed as a dead weight – something what would not be tolerated much longer, and there already had been whispers of him being removed, so his brother could fully focus on the ways how to communicate with the geth. When he showed the ability to communicate with the geth, he saved his life, and made it into living hell at the same time.

It didn’t seem that way at the time they were at Atlas station, but in the beginning, he really did volunteer for the experiments – and when it became too much, his brother had been unable to stop the others. Not for the lack of trying, though.

She stored that little piece of information back, hugging David around the shoulders when he said missed his brother and asked, if she knows where he is. “We’ll find him, David,” she told him, “and then you will be together again.”

She just hoped she didn’t just give him an empty promise; the worst kind of promises as they were.

**-o.O.o-**

Sira sometimes missed killing dragons.

Well, not that she liked those scaly bastards all that much – too tough for every day fight. But killing one in a while – that sounded good actually, especially when you had a friendly armour smith who could work wonders with the scales. Not to mention – their treasure hordes always contained some spectacular loot

These Harvester creatures reminded her of dragons – wings, something similar to scales, long necks… They run into several of them when they were on the evac mission for downed turian ship down on Tuchanka.

And now, one of them stood between them and the turians they were supposed to save.

The beast had strong shields, like nearly every Reaper creature had, and for a moment, she allowed her mind rest on the question what the Harvesters used to be like before the Reapers twisted them into this. But right next, she could see the life force of the beast seep away, and before she could stop herself, she was running, jumping and successfully landing on the beast’s neck, right behind its ugly head.

The mechanical eyes sure were good place where to stab your omnitool, and killing one of them by stabbing it in the eye was good, quick and efficient way how to go around by them. Right until the fucker exploded, that’s it.

And Maker, did it explode.

Thankfully, the kinetic barriers of her armour took most of the damage, the impact of being flung against the nearest wall knocking the air out of her lungs, as well as making her see everything thrice for a moment.

But hey, nothing like killing those things in style.

**-o.O.o-**

Shepard hated secrets.

She truly, deeply, passionately, madly hated secrets.

Like this one. The fact that Primarch Victus sent his son on some super secret mission would be something she was willing to understand. But what really pissed her off was how he endangered the whole alliance she was trying to pull through.

Obviously, once the turians rained the genophage on Tuchanka, they thought that rendering the krogan infertile is not enough. So they hid an absolutely huge bomb in the ground as well – because hey, these are krogan for you, you can never be enough prepared when it comes to the possibility of another krogan rebellion.

And this bomb had been hidden in Kelphic Valley, one of the most populated areas of the whole of Tuchanka.

They never learnt how Cerberus found out about the bomb, but the fuckers definitely weren’t afraid to use it, killing huge number of krogan. That was how the bomb was originally presented to Shepard – now that she thought of it, Primarch sure seemed relieved somehow when she spoke of the bomb and called it ‘Cerberus bomb’.

That bastard.

She was half-tempted to pull that proverbial stick out of his ass and beat him with it, but her diplomatic side stopped her from even suggesting it, actually forcing her to smooth the ruffled feathers (well, scales actually) of Wrex, when he found out what all the commotion on Tuchanka had been about.

How in the hell was she supposed to pull this through, when everyone insisted on making things even more difficult than they already were?

At least she and Kaidan went along better these days.

**-o.O.o-**

It was just their luck that the mission parameters changed as soon as the genophage cure was announced as ‘ready’. A Reaper of all things landed just before what they wanted to use to disperse the cure to whole of Tuchanka – and let’s say it’s rather difficult to walk around a Reaper even at the best of conditions.

This definitely wasn’t perfect conditions to absolutely anything.

Sira was forced to sit that one mission down, sitting with Joker and EDI’s physical platform on the bridge, biting her nails up to her elbows, as she listened to the feed from Shepard’s helmet. She picked James and Liara for the mission, and it was sometimes pretty hilarious to listen to them talk to each other.

Yes, James… that marine sure was something else.

**-o.O.o-**

When Allison made it back to their cabin, she was at the end of her energy reserves for the day. All that tension, whether they make it to the Shroud or not, the nerves over Eve’s (or rather Bakara’s) survival, Mordin’s sacrifice…

That day, Sira chanted the Canticle of Andraste, feeling it hitting too close to home.

_Let the blade pass through the flesh; let my blood touch the ground. Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice._

The Primarch and Wrex entered a deal of mutual support, and Maker shot her down with lighting if that didn’t make everyone breathe easier, when the two diplomats finally got off the Normandy.

Oh Mordin, Sira thought as the crew threw an improvised celebration of the whole curing of the genophage thing. Now you will never be able to do all those experiments on the sea shells.


	18. The Coup

 

When Normandy approached the Citadel, Joker was already preparing some jabs to trade with the Alliance dock official – he never met the woman, but she showed signs of sense of humour and certainly didn’t lack wits, when it came to responding to his shenanigans in kind.

But this time, the comm channel remained unresponsive.

With a deep sense of foreboding, he commed Shepard. “Commander, we have a problem.”

How right he was – although, at the end of the day, he wished he could say: “See? Exactly how I did NOT tell you so.”

**-o.O.o-**

Allison, Sira, James and Liara had been running through the C-Sec Academy, Sira being cloaked with Kasumi’s special cloaking device unseen to anyone. When they came upon Cerberus troops, she usually decloaked only to break someone’s neck, stab someone in the back or at least call the attention from someone to herself.

She felt her blood sing in her veins, finally fully understanding what Zevran meant when he said some people just deserve to get killed. As she watched the dead bodies of C-Sec officers, gunned down like animals, she felt her anger rise in her body, only the discipline she had to master keeping it from spilling over and causing trouble for all of them. Liara looked worried and scared, and James and Allison both wore visors, effectively blocking their eyes from her view, making it difficult to haphazard a guess what they were thinking.

Luckily, Owen Bailey was alive, she thought with a relieved smile, although grumbling over getting his ass shot at. He kept on sending them information as soon as he had it, keeping them as updated as he could while he organized what remained of C-Sec. And Thane, her dear drell friend, was moving to the C-Sec Academy as quickly as he could, trying to help them in reaching the Salarian Councillor and save him before the Cerberus troops.

 _There!_ The Councillor was carefully moving between desks, when suddenly, a figure dressed in black appeared behind him, a sword in hand. Before any of them could do anything, a blur appeared behind the black-clad figure.

Later, none of them could explain their inactivity, but Thane fought the Cerberus agent as if nothing ailed him – right until the Cerberus guy stabbed him with omniblade and run away. Bailey immediately sent a sky car nearby, ready for them to start chasing after the agents, and they went after him, leaving Thane bleeding on the floor as he waited for evac, Sira slowing down to touch his shoulder shortly before running after them.

For a moment, Sira wished she let her hair free, instead of pulling them into the tight braided buns her mother favoured so much, as her fingers twitched in desire to twist something between them. She was eager to fight, eager to feel the rush of adrenaline in her veins as she stormed some place. She was nervous her close fighting skills will be completely useless – but given the number of separate kinds of Cerberus troops, she felt useful because she could fight with a sword just as well (if not better) like they did, and all her martial training came to use once again.

They rushed through Presidium in their race against the assassin, leaving trail of dead Cerberus operatives behind them. They all were getting tired, after the endless biotic attacks and reloading one’s weapon. But still they had pressed on, knowing they must protect the Council otherwise the war will be cut short.

Part of Sira wondered if one of the reasons why Donell Udina joined forces with devil was that he thought there is no other choice. Like Loghain, betraying his King, Udina betrayed his Admirals. There would be no duel this time, she mused, as Udina would never surrender. His part in this whole thing had already be too big for surrender, and it was doubtful he would know anything aside of his part of the bargain with the devil.

Then they were riding the lift, speeding towards the lift that carried Council, coming out from the ducts once it stopped, immediately sealing it behind themselves; James, Allison and Liara with their weapons ready, Sira once again covered by her shadows and Kasumi’s cloaking device, the unlocked powers of her blood making her steps light and quick, as she moved over the scene.

They were arguing, Udina pointing fingers and accusing Allison from being allied with Cerberus, from murdering the Salarian Councillor, and Kaidan kept his gun raised even after Allison and her team lowered theirs. Everyone had been so focused on Kaidan and Allison that no one really paid any attention to Udina.

That was when the traitor decided to strike, pointing his gun at Allison and pressing the trigger.

_Bang!_

In one quick leap, Sira was in front of Allison, and with a sharp pain, the bullet connected with her body, making her stagger before she fell down. Things got blurry afterwards; there had been some shooting, speaking, and most of all pain as she lied on the cold ground, Allison’s hands pressed to the wound to stop the flow of hot, crimson blood. Somebody must have called for an evac, because suddenly she had been taken away, and then darkness crept into her vision and she felt nothing.

**-o.O.o-**

There were many faces of Allison Shepard – aggravated, calm, focused, frustrated, amused or maniac. But seeing her like this, kneeling on the floor next to that strange woman with artificial eye, pressing her hands to her chest as she tried to stop the blood from flowing so freely, her face desperate as she yelled into her comm for anyone listening to send a medical evac…

Kaidan remembered many things, but desperate Shepard was not one of them.

This was partially his fault, he knew. He played word-hockey with Shepard, focusing solely on her, and making her focus solely on him that against everything they ever learnt about fighting the others were watching them fight and no one paid any attention to what that rat Udina was doing. Only she obviously noticed something fishy and kept her guard up.

And got shot in return for her attention.

As the medics carried the woman away, Liara grabbed his arm, stopping him from following after distressed Shepard.

“If Sira dies,” she said quietly, “Shepard is never going to forgive you.”

Listening to that, he was unsure whether he would be able to forgive himself, too.

**-o.O.o-**

It was all her very own bloody fault.

If she was quicker, if she paid more attention, if she… if she anything, Thane wouldn’t be dying and Sira wouldn’t still be in the surgery.

Kolyat was already in the room, speaking softly to his father when she entered. She was unsure whether she would be welcome, but the young man just motioned her to join him by Thane’s bed, so she could exchange last words with the dying man as well.

Thane looked up to gaze at Commander, lifting his hand to shake hers for the last time. “I’m afraid I took bad time to leave, Shepard,” he rasped, his body betraying him as he nearly coughed his lungs out. “I’ve heard Sira was shot during the coup – how is she?”

Shepard felt tears welling up in her eyes. “She’s still in the surgery. They do not know whether she’ll make it or not.”

Thane nodded slowly. “Sira is strong,” he offered, coughing again. “I’m sorry I will not able to say my farewells with her.”

Kolyat spoke up then, reciting something, Thane’s eyes widening as he listened to the words. “You speak like the priests do, Kolyat,” he whispered. “Have you been spending your time with them?”

“Yes, father. Commander,” he turned towards her, “I brought the prayer book. Would you join me?”

As they read the prayer, Thane looked out of the window, his eyes lingering on the Presidium and people cleaning the rubble everywhere. As Allison finished her part of the prayer, he breathed one last time and then his eyes closed forever. Choking on her own breathing, she whispered one part of Sira’s Chant of Light, one of those she recited after curing the genophage, when she learnt of Mordin’s death.

“Draw your last breath, my friends, cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker’s right hand, and be forgiven.”

It was there, when the walls around her self-control broke and she started crying, the grieving son of her friend comforting her in spite of his own grief. He only met Sira, or herself, only few times before, and none of those meetings went on an overly friendly note, but grief has that funny ability to make people into at least temporary friends.

Sira’s condition remained critical, when she left the hospital later that evening.

**-o.O.o-**

Sira opened her eyes and nearly couldn’t believe what her nose told her.

The wet dog smell.

She was home, back on Thedas, back in Ferelden, and from the looks of it, in Denerim Palace!

Jumping from the place she was laying on, she run from the room, calling for anyone who could hear her. She passed several guards, but no one paid her any attention.

“Hey, ser guard!” she yelled, hoping to get some reaction. The guard turned towards her, and she opened her mouth to ask him some questions – when the guard walked right through her and continued on his way.

Maker’s breath. She became a ghost.

She wandered through the corridors aimlessly, walking through the walls several times just to see if she could, checking on what people did. The cook was skinning a rabbit, preparing stew. The guards over there had been exchanging bawdy jokes. King Alistair had been signing some letters, as she looked over his shoulders, it looked like official invites to several of the southern banns. Queen Anora had been reading a book, latest of Brother Genitivi’s work, this being about his search for Urn of Sacred Ashes, _In Pursuit of Knowledge – Chasing the Legend_.

‘When I lost almost all hope of ever escaping the cultists, who revered a high dragon as Andraste, group led by Warden Sira Cousland arrived to Haven in search for me. Imagine my surprise when the wall masking the door to the secret room moved to the side, and revealed several people in armours, and most obviously not the cultists, led by a young woman. “Brother Genitivi, if I’m not mistaken?” she asked, taking off her helmet, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the question; the Warden, and her companions soon joining me.’

Wandering from the royal suite again, she run into her bodyguard, ser Roland Gilmore. She just expected him to walk straight through her, when he stopped abruptly in his tracks, looked her directly in the eyes and whispered. “My lady?”

Someone finally saw her. Finally, she will be able to tell somebody what happened to her.

Somehow, she managed to spend the rest of the day in Roland’s company, keeping by his side as he went on his rounds, speaking to him once they arrived to his quarters.

“My lady,” he asked urgently. “What happened to you?”

“I do not know,” she said in return, standing with her back to him as he changed his clothing. “One moment I was in that corridor, and next, I awoke in some strange place, with a woman looking like me. My body is still there, Roland, I feel it – but somehow, my spirit made it to Ferelden, after I got badly wounded.” She turned around to face her friend. “Rory – what happened after I disappeared?”

The news hit her with a force of falling dragon. While the country had been still searching for her, to her it seemed as if she wasn’t actually needed. Her place as a Chancellor had been offered to her brother, Nathaniel led the Grey Wardens without questions, and no one commented on her absence anymore.

“Your friends still hope you are alive, Sira,” Roland said quietly, “but after so long with no news, even that hope is getting smaller and smaller.”

Suddenly, Sira felt as if something had been tugging at her sternum. “Rory,” she said, alarmed. “Something is happening. I…”

Sira disappeared before Roland’s eyes, her hands reaching for him, as if he would be able to keep her there.

**-o.O.o-**

_‘Doctor, we’re losing her!’_

_‘Like hell we are! On my count, one, two, three!’_

_‘No reaction!’_

_‘Again! One, two, three!’_

_‘Got heartbeat now! Life signs stabilizing.’_

_Breathe in. Breath out._

_Darkness, black and comforting._

**-o.O.o-**

“Zevran.”

He must have been poisoned, he told to himself, because there was no way he would be hearing this otherwise.

“Zevran.”

No, he won’t open his eyes. If he would, this voice would prove to be a hallucination, and that would hurt too much.

“Come on, Zev, just open your eyes. For me, my handsome elf?”

Zevran sprung from his bed, dagger in his hand as he looked at the source of the sound. He felt his jaw drop when he saw his friend, Sira Cousland, standing by the window, arms crossed on that delicious bosom of hers, a small smirk on her lips.

After months spent by searching for her, he couldn’t quite believe she was still alive, and standing in his bedroom. And the tale she spun about her whereabouts! If it weren’t her, he wouldn’t believe a word from the tale. But this was Sira Cousland, one of the few people who never lied to him, and as he knew her, she wasn’t prone to exaggeration as well.

She seemed calm, but he could see the unhappiness in her. When he pressed on that point, Sira has been quiet for a moment, before she sighed. “Sometimes, Zev, I would give everything I’ve ever had to be able to return here. And sometimes,” she smiled wistfully, “I would give everything to remain where I am now.”

“Tell me more, my beautiful Sira,” Zevran asked. The last time he saw this expression on the beautiful face of his dear friend, it had been shortly after the fateful Landsmeet, where Alistair announced his betrothal to Anora, and asked Sira to become his mistress afterwards.

And Sira told him what happened – he couldn’t quite wrap his head over all those invasions, and coups, and traitors – but the tale of a man she fell for sounded familiar. Strong and dependable, that was the type Sira nearly unknowingly looked for.

And once again, she seemed to be doomed to fall for someone who wouldn’t appreciate her in the way she deserved.

When Sira started to disappear before his eyes, he saw a tear running down her cheek, even as she gave him one last sad smile, before she was gone.

**-o.O.o-**

_‘Look, she’s waking up!’_

_‘Goddess, she’s coughing blood again!’_

_‘Sedatives! Now! And bring me something to suck off the remaining blood from her lungs!’_

**-o.O.o-**

“You have grown up so much, darling.”

Sira couldn’t quite believe what her eyes were telling her – she was in Castle Cousland, in the full spring bloom if her nose told her right, and in front of her stood her parents, his father’s arm protectively around his wife’s waist as they just stood there and smiled at her.

She rushed to them, hugging them tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I missed you so much,” she whispered, clinging to her father.

“We know, darling,” said her mother, smiling at her daughter. “We are so proud of you.”

“But you must wake up, pup,” added her father, his eyes looking into hers. “It’s not your time yet.”

“But I want to stay here with you!” she cried, her hands grasping after them. They both gave her a sad smile. “One day, we’ll see each other again. But until then, you are needed elsewhere.”

**-o.O.o-**

_“She’s awake!”_

**-o.O.o-**

Shepard’s comm beeped loudly. Before she was fully awake, she was already on the move towards her console, tapping it on.

“Commander,” sounded accented voice of Doctor Michel. “She finally woke up. She’s still very weak, and still not completely out of the danger, but she already asked for you. We sedated her to keep her from overly stressing herself, but she should wake again soon.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” replied Allison, relieved beyond words. “I’ll be there as quickly as I can manage. Shepard out.”

She ran out of her cabin, tapping her foot impatiently against the floor in the ship’s elevator. Was this really twenty-second century or what, when the elevators were still about as quick as a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter? At least EDI managed to secure her a cab to get to Huerta Memorial in record speed, rushing through the crowded place towards the room Sira was assigned to.

It was almost scary to see still see the usually lively woman to be so still, connected to various machines to help her breathe, blood and vitamins in the drips connected to her arms.

“Come on, Sira,” she whispered, taking one of the unmoving hands in hers. “Wake up and yell at me to drop my guard like that.”

Sira didn’t reply her then, but few hours later, she woke from her sleep, and told her she was idiot for falling asleep on a chair next to her bed. And right after that, she scolded her for making her laugh when her whole body hurt like that.

Good, thought Allison. Things were once again looking good.

Sira dreamt that night of Ferelden again, her mind walking through the corridors of Castle Cousland. She stopped in front of the door of her brother’s chambers, unsure about what to do, but then, she heard a distressed sound from the room her nephew slept. Quickly, she crossed the corridor, melding through the door, going directly after her nephew, as he thrashed in a nightmare.

She reached to touch his forehead, and suddenly, she was in his nightmare. The Castle was burning, his mother stabbed in front of him, and now the Howe’s soldiers were approaching him with naked swords, laughing madly over the opportunity to kill that little bastard. Without thinking, she leapt in front of the boy, going after the enemies with nothing but her bare hands, killing them withh a speed she didn’t think she was capable at the time of the attack.

“Auntie!” Oren called, running to her, hugging her tightly. “They said you were dead, that you would never return!”

“Oren,” she whispered to him. “I’m not dead. I’m just… very, very far from Ferelden, and I do not think I will ever be able to return.”

“But, auntie?” the boy asked, pulling back to look into her face. Young men were not supposed to cry, but as he gazed upon the face of his aunt, the one who saved his life when the Castle Cousland was attacked, and the one he was forbidden to meet after the events in Amaranthine Arling, he didn’t bother with stopping the tears from flowing when he saw her in front of him.

“Oren, darling,” she whispered. “This is a dream. Where I am, I’m sleeping as well, as I was wounded very badly, and only because of that I had been allowed by Maker’s intervention to return to the land of my people.”

“I miss you so much,” her nephew whispered, once again hugging her so tightly it hurt. “Daddy was so angry at you, but then you disappeared and he was so angry again.”

“I know.”

Then she felt the familiar pulling. Gently disengaging from her nephew’s embrace, she held him on arm’s length. “I love you, Oren. Do not ever doubt that.”

“Auntie?”

She slowly slipped from his grasp, giving him one last smile. “Sweet dreams, Oren.”

She found herself once again sitting on the bed where her nephew slept, with a content smile on his face. When she was pulled from Ferelden again, she felt herself smiling, as she woke up, even if everything hurt.

**-o.O.o-**

As Sira had been recuperating in Huerta Memorial, Allison had been having long talks with Kaidan. The man was very much aware of how much he fucked up by first telling how he actually trusted her, only to take that back during the coup, questioning her loyalties once more while pointing a gun at her.

She was pissed at the man, and only her worry over her friend made her a bit less likely to explode in his face. Suddenly, they had been arguing over something when not even the worry over Sira could stop her.

“You think I was given a choice, Kaidan?” she yelled, startling the man. “I woke up on a surgery table, with IVs stuck into my arm, with alarms blazing and a bunch of mechs gone rogue after me. If Miranda – a Cerberus operative – didn’t wake me up, I would be dead again.” She noticed him wincing at the word ‘dead’. “Oh yes, I didn’t have two fun years, fooling everyone into thinking I was dead. I. Was. Dead. Deader than dead. Cerberus spent four billion credits in bringing me back, you know, once Collectors issued an order to have my body recovered.”

She shuddered. “I do not even want to imagine what they wanted my corpse for, but I can quite easily imagine it wouldn’t be anything nice. Cerberus at least gave me a fighting chance in bringing me back – I have no doubt the Illusive Man is cursing the day he stopped Miranda from implanting me with a control chip.”

“Can you imagine how it felt, when the intel suddenly reported you flying all over the galaxy under Cerberus colours?” Kaidan asked, and Allison reddened at hearing the old insult of not knowing where her loyalty lies. “And can you,” she hissed, “imagine how that felt when the first question I asked of Anderson was about you, and all I got was that you are still in the Alliance and anything else is classified?!”

The first talk they had after the coup didn’t carry on much better note – but afterwards, the more time they spent together on the Citadel, they grew more comfortable in each others’ presence again. And when Kaidan invited her to Apollo’s, she went there with madly beating heart, and was rewarded by gentle moment with Kaidan that not even being in the public could stop.


	19. Clone Wars

 

Allison had been walking through the apartment Anderson signed over to her, talking with the man while doing so. It came as a surprise when Hackett ordered the whole ship on a shore leave while the ship went through some much needed maintenance and Anderson contacted her about the apartment.

She never had a place which she could call her own, the rented place always making her feel more like a visitor instead of the inhabitant, so this had been a bit of a dream coming true. Sira would like the place – she always spoke fondly of having at least a small room she could call her own, where she could walk around naked if she wanted and no one would really give a damn.

Her thoughts had been interrupted by a loud beep announcing an incoming message. Walking to one of the rooms, the one looking a mix between a game room and a study, and tapped her messages open.

_Subject: Dinner at sushi place on me!  
From: Joker_

_Hey Shepard,_

_I've got a few things I wanted to go over with you. With the Normandy in dry dock, I figured we could meet up at that Ryuusei sushi place down in the Wards. I hear it's the best._  
  
Joker

She never had been to the place – but a quick search through the extranet showed it was a high class place, so a dress was a must, so she quickly commed Sira and asked her to bring her some casual clothing she could wear there.

In a short time, Sira arrived with a bag of clothing, bringing a make up case as well. While Allison had been putting the dress, the one she got from Kasumi, on, she walked through the whole apartment and commented on various things, before she came to the master bedroom and helped Allison with her hair, adding a little make up here and there.

“Go,” she said fondly, as she watched the older woman slipping the pumps on. “And remember – do not bring shame on your crew, act politely and never cause any trouble.”

Of course she jinxed it, thought Allison as she gathered herself from the ground she fell several floors to. There had been number of dead fish around her, in the midst of broken glass and water. At least she managed to get a weapon from one of the attackers; strange pistol of very efficient design. Luckily, she broke no bones during her fall (thank you, Cerberus and all your credits), so even if she was hurting all over, she was able to stand up and try to find her way out of this place.

She just thought it was such a shame she had to leave her pumps there – no way would she be able to run around and shoot everything that looked at her funny in those heels.

Someone will have a lot of explaining to do, she thought as she responded to comm call of the woman who jumped in front of her in the restaurant. At least she wasn’t alone – although fighting in a dress definitely faded when compared to the story where Sira was fighting her way out of the burning castle dressed only in her nightgown.

Soon afterwards, Kaidan rushed to her rescue, Wrex joining in the fun with one of his favourite manoeuvres, the Krogan air drop on the mercenary car, so she wouldn’t be that vulnerable anymore – it still just irked her that no matter what she did, her shore leave got screwed up more often than it did not.

**-o.O.o-**

According to Liara’s sources, the gun she managed to grab had been a custom work made by smuggler of name Elijah Khan, and the group performing the ambush had been infamous for being dishonourably discharged from the Alliance, and they called themselves CAT6.

Plans had been made; the team infiltrating the casino is small groups of two or three, cooperating in attracting attention from each other if the need came to be, as well as to have at least a little fun in mingling in the crowds.

It was decided that Allison with enter together with Brooks and Kaidan, then will come Liara, Wrex and Javik, followed by James and Sira.

Sira did quite a lot of running around; helping with make up, doing hair, tying the ties, bringing armour polish (since Javik vehemently refused to don anything but ceremonial version of his usual armour), picking shoes and dresses to come together with them… She barely had any time dress herself up to the occasion, too, not allowed to do anything that was more exhausting than standing around and looking pretty at the moment. Still, that was fated to change soon as well.

All women looked absolutely radiant, Steve thought, and the men looked fairly attractive as well. Men in suits usually did. As he helped Joker to bring them over to the Silversun Casino, where some charity gala was taking place, he couldn’t help but watch them to walk the carpet, smiling at onlookers, nodding to them or just stare them down in Javik’s case, smirking at how uncomfortable some of them looked at being in the centre of attention.

There was just something strange around Sira and James, nearly invisible wall between them as they walked to the casino, Sira’s arm hooked through James’, he looking rather weirded out and Sira smiling radiantly at everyone.

Steve got some action to himself later that day; as they all ran all around the Citadel archives, shooting everything that wasn’t part of their crew and it felt rather liberating. Well, apart from the part when Brooks showed to be a double agent for Shepard’s clone, who had been one hell of a humanity first bastard.

The assault at retaking the Normandy from the imposter had been quite adrenaline undertaking; the ship taking off with Steve and Joker piloting a cab to stop it from FTL jump, the shuttle bay door open while people in the armoury tried to kill each other.

In one moment, Allison and her clone were wrestling on the opened door, suddenly falling to the ground and hanging down. Sira, EDI and Garrus didn’t think for a moment before throwing themselves down to help their Commander up; Brooks responding to clone’s questioning gaze with a small shake of her head, leaving the clone where she was.

Allison and Sira stood above the clone, holding their hands towards her, offering her help, and life.

Life in a reality with two perfect examples of what she would never be would be unbearable. The clone just looked into their faces; one unmarked by any injury, the other adorned by a tattoo and a monocle visor, and without words just dropped down.

Death would be most welcome after learning that the world is hollow.

Afterwards, Brooks was doing her best to piss Shepard off, earning herself only a small chuckle from Sira and eye roll from Shepard. “Wasn’t it nice to have someone so awed?” Sira repeated, Allison shaking her head about it. “Brooks, or what your name is,” Allison said, “you act as if I was blind or stupid. When it comes to awed people, I have my biggest fan, Conrad Verner, for that. Should it come to you, we were just waiting for you to show your true colours – which you did.”

There had been some taunting, during which Shepard finally lost her patience. “Begging for my life? Error, Brooks,” she spat, getting into Brooks’ face. “I’m begging for yours.”

“She wouldn’t have let me live,” Brooks said as Steve led her out, and Shepard just nodded to that statement. “I guess you can’t clone everything.”

And truer thing was not spoken during this absolutely crazy adventure.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	20. Of Broken Hearts and Hopes

 

Sometimes Sira wondered whether she truly was so uninteresting, ugly or boring that no one seemed to really notice her. Sure, the nearly constant visor or the freaky eye underneath sure gave even her number of nightmares and scares, but part of her never stopped hoping someone will see through it and find her desirable.

She hoped James would be able to see through that.

She tried _everything_.

She tried talking to him like she would to everyone else – he sure wouldn’t ignore her, but something about his bearings always made her feel as if she was intruding, so she tended to cut any talks short.

She tried to flirt with him; the gentle playful flirting they liked to trade with Zevran; full of winks, double entendres, meaningful smiles. He obviously didn’t notice.

She tried to flirt with him apparently, as she would flirt with Alistair before her fellow Grey Warden got out of his shell and returned the flirting with his own. Everyone else had already been face palming over her obviousness but James either didn’t notice anything, or just chose to ignore it.

And after the attempt at Allison’s life, and infiltration of Silversun Casino she knew where the problem was.

James wasn’t as clueless as one would think, nor he didn’t like her – he obviously was uneasy by just being in her presence.

She felt like complete idiot. Here she was, trying to pretty herself up as much as she was able (and that was saying quite a lot), but when she walked by his side, her hand on his elbow, he looked like he would probably rather just toss himself out of the airlock than to repeat this whole thing, his whole posture stiff and uncomfortable. “I know you would prefer to be here with someone else, if you have to be here at all, but _please_ ,” she hissed, her lost hopes making her irritable as she gave the onlookers a wide smile and wave, “try to at least _look_ my way as not to make it too obvious.”

Once Shepard was safe, the clone taken care of and Normandy retaken, she found herself curled in one of the seats in Kodiak, crying over her lost hopes. She was quiet – the long months spent in close company of her group during the Blight taught her how to do it so no one else would be notified of her distress – as she curled on the pilot seat with several bottles of brandy keeping her company in her misery. The perfect date in three – her, bottle and box of paper tissues.

When Cortez found her several hours later, she was playing with an empty bottle, humming a melody he didn’t recognize.

“Sira?” he asked, noting the puffed eyes and red nose, together with box of paper tissues, used tissues lying on the floor around.

  1. “Hey, Steve.”



“Is there any reason why you are stuck here and not on the crew deck? There’s a party going on in there, you know.”

  1. “Yep, I know. Didn’t feel like attending.”



Steve was aware that Sira would probably like to be left alone with her empty bottles and paper tissues, but something about her was screaming _‘I’m alone, do not leave me’_ to the world, that he just sat next to her.

“Sira, what’s going on?” he asked gently, and that was all it took to any resemblance of self-control Sira was still holding to break. Steve, used to crying quietly himself recognized the way her shoulders suddenly shook, the bottle falling with a _thud_ from her suddenly loose fingers.

“I miss Ferelden, Steve. I miss it so much…” Her voice was hoarse, and Steve wondered how long she had been in here, crying silently in the shuttle. “When I got shot during the Cerberus Coup, I hoped I would be able to return to my world completely – but it didn’t work. I just spoke to some of my friends, saw my parents, let them know I’m alive, and then got back here.”

She was silent for a moment. “You know, I learnt that even if I was able to return, I would no longer be useful there as well. When I disappeared, there had been short struggle for my Chancellor position, and then my brother stepped in my stead. My Constable became Warden Commander…” her voice drifted into whisper. “Of what use I can be, Steve, when no one needs me anymore, here or there? When no one _wants_ me anymore?”

Steve, who had been discreetly messaging James to come down to help him move Sira to her bunk (where she moved after Allison and Kaidan reconciled during her recuperation after the coup and she spent several nights by sleeping in the lounge, as far as he knew), looked up abruptly. “Why would no one want you, Sira? You’re smart, pretty, can hold your own and you have enough charisma to sustain two pretty women.”

“Yep,” she snorted. “That’s why I was not good enough to be a wife, but only a royal whore – oh, sorry, _royal mistress_ , to Alistair, right?”

Steve saw the lift open, James walking into the armoury. He quickly gestured him to keep it down, the marine looking at him curiously but following up on his cue nonetheless, quietly coming over to the shuttle doors.

“If there was no Blight, I would already be married, you know? I would be young noblewoman, with possibly handsome young nobleman as my husband, with a child or two. I actually might have even loved him, too, like my mother loved my father. But _noooo_ – the bloody Darkspawn just had to dig an Old God and start another Blight.”

She fell silent, for so long that Steve almost motioned James to come to get her when she spoke again. “I think I taught Alistair too well. He definitely started to look out more for himself, uncaring whom he’ll hurt during his charging after his own wants.”

“Tell me more about it,” requested Steve, sitting on the ground next to the young woman. She snorted. “Prepare to hear a pretty badly written romance then, Steve – I swear it would actually be quite funny, if it were happening to someone else, and not to me.”

She exhaled. “When the Blight started, I was eighteen – in my world, that is high time for a noblewoman to get married, unless she has some kind of... flaw… which would prevent that, you know?” She waited for Steve to nod his understanding before she continued. “I had several men already voicing an interest in marriage with me – like Dairren, son of Bann Loren, or Oswyn, son of Bann Sighard. Both of them were from respectable families, and both were really pleasant to spend time with. They were both handsome, too,” she giggled, her face brightening for a second at the memory before it darkened again. “When my brother and father were supposed to lead our soldiers to Ostagar at the King’s command, Dairren was to be my father’s squire. My parents said that if he shows to be capable, they will give him his blessings, should he choose to court me. He was murdered the night our castle was attacked by Howe’s soldiers. And Oswyn? He was tortured by Howe for months, and he felt ashamed in front of me ever since I pulled him of the rack Howe liked to strap him at.”

“What about this Alistair you mentioned before?” Steve inquired, making Sira smile sadly. “He was my fellow Grey Warden; the only other one who survived the Battle of Ostagar. For so long we relied on each other, until we started to feel for each other. Or so I thought.” She chuckled. “It kind of feels funny, that I had been willing to take _that_ ,” she stressed the word to mark its significance, “step with him, only to be rebuked he’s not ready. And when he was ready, it wasn’t exactly the best time for me. And then the Landsmeet happened, he became a King, said he will marry the Queen, and later told me I could be his mistress, if I was open to that. He said he doesn’t love the Queen, and I told him to fuck off. Well,” she paused, “maybe not in those words, but the sentiment was the same.” She sighed. “I refuse to be anyone’s woman by the side. Maybe I’m too proud, but my parents raised me to know my own value. I would never sleep with anyone who wasn’t _the one_.”

“And after the – how did you called it, the Blight?”

“No one really dared to approach me after the Blight either. It would be a bit awkward to come up and be all ‘hey, Lady Chancellor, want to hook up?’ you know? Then there had been some problems with my brother being angry at me for conscripting son of our parent’s murderer into the Wardens, and that sure didn’t add to my, ah, attractiveness, when it comes to political marriage. And here? People are either not interested, or are interested in me just because I look like Allison.”

“What about James?” Steve asked; gesturing behind his back to James to keep quiet, otherwise there will be hell to pay.

Sira snorted; the sound even more unladylike than usual. “Have you actually ever looked at the way I and James interact? I come up to him, he looks uncomfortable, and then I leave when even I start to feel awkward enough. He’s somewhere with others, I come to join them, he very quickly excuses himself. And have you looked at us during the casino gala? I swear that if there had been any airlocks available, he would jump out of one just so he wouldn’t have to be there with me on his arm.” Her voice lowered. “I suppose that only now I finally realized that all my attentions had been deeply unwanted, and yet I kept on harassing him.” Sighing, she added: “I guess that I should take the first clue when I heard him saying he gives nicknames only to people he likes. Obviously, that’s why he never came up with any nickname for me.”

Sira fell silent for a short time after that again, raising the only bottle of brandy which still had some liquid in it and downed it in one go. “I really wish he would talk to me like he talks to Allison, or looked out for me as he did for Miss Bryson,” she confessed. “Ever since Castle Cousland had been attacked, no one really took care of me. Is it really so much to ask, to want to be important to someone?”

She cried some more afterwards, whispering to him how she wished she fell for someone who would want her as well; Steve’s arms around her in comforting gesture, while stunned looking James made himself scarce until the woman cried herself into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, no idea what I was thinking about, when I was writing so much drama into this. Reading it now, it feels like teenage romance movie O_o


	21. The Other Way Around

 

The next day, Sira acted as if nothing happened, which worried Steve. He understood her need to distance herself from her confession of being so damn alone, but even he realized how bad for her it was.

James felt none the better; he knew he acted strangely when the younger woman was around. He was just so bloody nervous whenever she was around, his heart beating madly as he tried to act like nothing was happening. _Think of regs,_ he would tell himself, _think of regs and keep it in your pants._ Trust it to him to keep doing things backwards, and confuse people – like the nicknames thingie of his. Of course she understood it in the sense that he doesn’t like her when he didn’t make one for her.

He never was especially vocal that he made them only for people who he thought should be named differently. Not like her, whose name fitted her completely, accentuating her character in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He remembered her without the blasted nickname, too, so why would he made up one for her?

It came as a shock when he looked down from the bar where he had been doing pull ups only to notice her standing patiently, waiting for him to notice her. “James?” she spoke, her voice calm. “A moment of your time, please?”

Once again, he fumbled with his words. “Uhm, sure,” he said, mentally kicking himself how unwilling he sounded even to his own ears. Without missing a beat, Sira continued: “I would like to apologize for forcing my company on you previously – it was not my intention to make you uncomfortable all this time. Rest assured it will not be a problem again.”

Her voice held the tone of finality that scared him out of his wits but as he opened his mouth to explain to her that it wasn’t her what made him uncomfortable (at least not in that I-am-harassing-you way), her eyes slid from his face and suddenly, she jumped to the floor, covering something. “Ha!” she cried out. “I’ve finally caught you, you furry bugger!” Before he could say anything, Sira was back on her feet, continuing as if he didn’t try to speak at all. “I’ll take my leave now, if you excuse me, James – I and Allison had been searching for this no good, always escaping hamster for days now, and I need to put him back to his cage, before he runs away again.”

Without waiting for any answer she was out of the shuttle bay, leaving him standing there like a fool, Steve giving him pitying looks from his console.

**-o.O.o-**

He really tried. Like, really, _really_ tried.

He tried to approach her when she was alone and speak with her. She politely paid attention to him, but always got called away for this or that. It didn’t matter what it was, it was always on the opposite side of the ship than he was supposed to be at for the time being.

And then it was nearly impossible to actually catch her alone. She was always with someone, discussing something. She would acknowledge his presence, and react when he said something, listening to him carefully as she would listen to anyone, but definitely not making him the centre of her attention. Not to mention that once more, she would often get called away, leaving him and her company alone, which definitely tended to make things rather awkward.

He supposed that payback was a bitch. Or fate was a bitch, he wasn’t entirely sure on that front.

Thing was, he sure had been interested in Sira – but it looked that after her break down in the shuttle she chose to forgone her interest in him and just decided to leave it alone. It irked him, now that he knew how she felt.

The mask of her lack of interest in him cracked when he dropped for a visit at Shepard’s new place to show the Commander his new tattoo. He took his shirt off, turned his back on Commander and flexed the his muscles to show off his tattoo at its best – when the door directly in front of him opened and in walked Sira, her eyes on some PAD, her mouth opened as she started speaking. “Hey, Allison, did you know that…”

Raising her eyes, she found herself looking at him. In a matter of second her mouth closed with a loud click, her eyes widened and she blushed in most becoming way (if one would to ask his opinion). “I, uhm, I didn’t know you got a visitor,” she stumbled over her words. “I’ll catch you later!”

She ran out of the apartment as if a whole platoon of Reapers were after her, her face still aflame. He didn’t realize that obviously a responding blush had been marking his face, until Shepard coughed softly and in that distinctly _‘I’m polishing a shotgun here’_ voice asked: “Care to tell me what the hell is going on?” that he knew he was in trouble.

Deep trouble.

**-o.O.o-**

Shepard took the news of him falling for her close friend surprisingly calmly, even if she yelled at him for acting like he wasn’t interested in the younger woman at all. She had been worried what is going on with Sira, since the woman was acting strangely ever since they re-took the Normandy from her clone.

It all made sense that the woman felt alone now, she thought with a stab of guilt. Quite a few of their team members paired up already, she had Kaidan now and she had to confess she didn’t really think of where Sira slept as she made Kaidan to move up with her in the loft. The logs showed her falling asleep on one of the couches in Starboard Observation room, then she camped in the medbay for several days before finally settling in crew quarters (it had been quite a problem to get her settled in there – obviously, none of them ever thought she would need another space to sleep in the future). Even since then she would occasionally take a nap in the shuttle, hiding her presence from everyone but Cortez, who found her there several times and decided to leave the matter be, since it wasn’t endangering anyone.

She spent lots of time with Cortez, too. Together, they would walk around the Citadel, watch the ships fly by, talk about gods knew what, dance in the clubs and look around for new shops they could still link to, to ensure their supply chains would be still working. And if she weren’t with the shuttle pilot, she had been on her own or possibly with someone else, like with Bailey of all people; always preoccupied anyway.

No wonder not Allison, nor James, had seen much of her lately.

Thinking of the younger woman, she seemed to be in rather solemn mood lately as well; her smiles were still there, but somehow rarer and always obviously well-thought beforehand.

And that was bad.

**-o.O.o-**

First signs of a real disagreement between Allison and Sira came when they flew to Minos Wasteland cluster, system Arrae, planet Gellix, to rescue bunch of ex-Cerberus scientists. Those decided to discontinue their allegiance to Cerberus, and were on the run.

Cerberus found them there, and now they were fighting for their survival.

The team (this time James, Kaidan, Sira and Shepard) jumped right in the middle of a fight, shooting their way to the base the scientists fortified themselves against the Cerberus; to their surprise, the only survivor of the defenders had been badly wounded Jacob Taylor.

It was good to see the man alive.

Yet, when they got inside the base, they were welcomed by obviously rather unwelcome sight – by the nearest computer console stood Doctor Gavin Archer. He seemed relieved to see Shepard, and held his hand to her in greeting, only to drop it awkwardly when she crossed her arms on her chest and just glared at him.

That was when Sira stepped up, offering her hand to the Doctor, recognition lighting his face as he looked at who the woman, shaking hands with him, was. “Doctor Archer,” she said with a small smile. “It’s good to see you saw through the Cerberus.”

“A little late for that,” snorted Allison, prompting Sira to spin around, her face in a tight grimace, as she glared at the commander. “You do not know what you are talking about, Allison,” she hissed, before turning her back at the surprised team.

Doctor Archer took that moment to ask about his brother, worry written all around his face, only to give way to immense relief, when Shepard told him the Grissom Academy was saved – and that he was quite late for worrying about that, too. “You truly are being unkind, Allison,” snapped Sira, her voice giving way to her old Fereldan accent. “Of course he is worried about David – David was worried about him as well.” She turned towards the scientist. “Gavin,” she said gently, using the doctor’s first name to stress that anything she says will be of great importance, “David misses you and would like to see you again.”

It had been too much to hear for the strained nerves of the scientist; his knees giving up at hearing those words, tears streaming down his cheeks. Sira leapt forward to catch him to slow his fall, dropping to the ground with him, as he clung to her like a small child, the enormous relief he felt making him incapable of doing anything else for the moment.

“Go check in with Brynn,” the younger woman suggested, not looking at them at all. “I will be there momentarily.”

Shepard just frowned before she walked up the stairs, the whole incident leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She didn’t know what she was talking about. Bah. Like hell she didn’t know what she was talking about – if someone is enough of a monster to do that to their supposedly only family, what more is there to see, to understand?

**-o.O.o-**

They didn’t exactly have much time before their next mission, so they didn’t have the talk they needed to have so much – instead, they were currently en route to Nimbus cluster to check one colony for the asari Councillor. There had already been several commando units sent there, and none of them ever reported back, which had the asari worried.

And whom you gonna call? The Normandy.

When they discovered that the colony is actually Ardat-Yakshi monastery, Allison decided that for this mission, Sira will be staying in the shuttle together with Steve, especially after finding another shuttle landed there only short time before them.

The situation went badly pretty quickly.

First, the reason why the Reapers were so interested in the Ardat-Yakshi monastery had been their use of these asari – they had been twisting them into terrible caricature of themselves, the feared Bashee. So far, there had been only two survivors – both of them daughters of Samara, who arrived to the colony just before Shepard.

The only option Shepard had seen with the monastery was to blow it up, and once Rila begged them to leave the place before she detonates it, dragging Falere away was the only thing on Allison’s mind, the heartbreaking screams of the asari nearly breaking her resolve.

It took all her resolve to jump after Samara and twist the gun out of Justicar’s hand, as she prepared to commit suicide so she wouldn’t have to kill her only daughter – but together with Falere they had been able to make the Justicar see reason, and afterwards, they called the shuttle.

Sira was definitely not happy with her, when the shuttle door opened.

“Allison! How could you do that?! Not letting us know you want to blow that place!” she accused her. “Do you have any idea how that felt, to see the explosion and not knowing what by the tits of Oghren’s Ancestor is happening?”

The days of simmering anger, exhaustion and stress finally took their toll on Shepard, as she snapped at the younger woman. “You are out of line, Cousland!”

For a moment, Sira looked as if Shepard slapped her, before she composed herself; her face shutting itself from the outside, as if shutters would be pulled over her. “Of course,” she said, her eyes trained somewhere above Allison’s right shoulder. “I’m sorry, Commander, for overstepping my bounds. I assure you, it will not happen again.”

With that, she turned around and entered the shuttle, going directly after Steve, leaving the rest of the squad look at each other uneasily.

No one spoke during the trip back to Normandy, everyone making sure not to make eye contact with anyone. Only Steve and Sira spoke quietly to each other, discussing something about flying shuttles and flying griffons; something the woman obviously always wanted to try, but never could, because the griffons went extinct during the centuries after the Fourth Blight.

Only once she looked Shepard’s way, but her face didn’t give anything away.

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, may I interest you in my blog entry about my [NaNoWriMo voyage](http://veroniquebee.hubpages.com/hub/NaNoWriMo-or-Thirty-Days-of-Writing-Madness)?


	22. Shotgun and Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of world worth retaking.

 

Sometimes Allison wondered what the hell went wrong when it came to the friendship she shared with Sira. Of course, there was the matter of her having much less time for her friend; actually, sometimes it was as if she completely ignored the presence of the woman, not caring about her at all.

Only now she realized how much comfort she gathered from the simple ritual of Sira helping her into her armour, before Kaidan took to that in her stead. None of them told the woman about the change – it just came to be. Looking at the footage from the hangar, the video one of those EDI provided her with, made her feel as if someone just kicked her in the stomach. Sira exited the lift, opening her mouth in her usual holler at Steve, only to have the voice die in her throat before even a single syllable could go out, her eyes focused on the scene before her. Kaidan, helping Shepard into her armour, both of them focused on each other, not paying attention to anything else. Without word, the woman closed her mouth, and with heartbroken face she re-entered the elevator, the door closing behind her without sound.

Now, the woman spent even less time in her presence.

She wasn’t disrespectful – if anything, she was so respectful it would give even Admiral Mikhailov a pause how someone so polite can be even alive.

Kaidan once tried to approach her, to speak with her about what was happening on Mars, and what happened during the coup. She just looked at him for a long time, then shrugged and said she wasn’t the one who he should say he’s sorry. With that, she just turned on her heel and left him where he stood, not giving him a second glance.

It was rather unnerving how closed off the woman could be – they were used to woman who would be brutally blunt, if needed, as well as all silver-tongued; this perfect soldier, fulfilling her duties without question, accurate, precise and stone-faced was something strange.

Steve once tried to breach the topic with her, being as close with her as he was. “And what about you?” he asked her once, when they were taking care of some refugees and she said every single one of them matters.

She just looked at him, and said: “I do not matter. Not anymore.”

The only change came when they jumped to the Far Rim, to meet with the quarians, and only because Tali was not afraid to ask the difficult questions.

**-o.O.o-**

“I can not really speak openly in front of Raan – but if you call me up to the loft, we can catch up.”

As soon as it was possible, Allison called Tali up. It was good to see her quarian friend, especially since she made it to Admiral and now helped to keep all her people alive. It brought a change to her, the once timid and unsure girl now being proud and commanding, not afraid to voice her opinion.

She moved around the quarters, taking in changes in its layout, and commenting about her once again blooming relationship with Kaidan, when she asked: “What is the matter with you and Sira? Didn’t you use to be ‘thick as thieves’, I think the term is?”

“Yeah,” Shepard said. “That was before I fucked it up.”

She told her of the latest happenings on the Normandy, and Tali just facepalmed, or rather, maskpalmed at hearing what was happening. The humans sure had a way of over complicating the things.

“You tried to talk to her?”

“It’s not like I can just come up and say ‘oh, hey, sorry for using you like an emotional crutch but now that my boyfriend finally pulled his head of his ass it’s not like I need you anymore’ to her.”

Tali sighed. “Well, that would be awkward. But what about telling her you are sorry about messing things up? I’m sure she would like to talk to you as well.”

“Yeah… I would hope so, but after snapping at her like I did back on the mission at Ardat-Yakshi monastery, I do not think she would allow me to come to her outside the mission side of things.”

Tali laughed; the filters of her suit making her laughter sound almost metallic. “Shepard – you can talk krogan and turians into an alliance, but can’t speak to your friend?”

She changed topics afterward, telling Shepard more of the progress of the war she and admiral Koris didn’t want but were forced to go into nonetheless, her voice full of sorrow when she mentioned the lost ships, often ships full of civilians, because they were armed, but not properly armoured, making them an easy target for the geth.

As Joker put it – if you have a plan that involves you putting canons on a school bus, you need a better plan. Right now, all she could think of was how to jump into danger herself, not giving a damn about consequences.

Meanwhile, Sira and Steve were in the shuttle bay, doing some warm up exercises Sir asked Steve’s help with. “Why do you need to do these in pairs?” Steve asked, curious. She shrugged. “We always did it this way back in Ferelden – my friend Zevran, a former Crow assassin once said it makes stretching your muscles easier. And given the fact that he taught me most of the jumps and somersaults I do all that often now, I would take his word on that.”

She leant into Steve’s hand, as he gently pushed her further to the floor so she would stretch the muscles of her legs. “I miss the man. He was a curious being – raised in distrust, bred to killing – but once you grow up to know him, he was a really nice guy.” She chuckled. “He also paid the best of compliments. I think you would like him.”

“Yeah, I can clearly see how I would like a trained assassin,” replied Steve drily, helping Sira sit up and lean on him, so she could stretch another part of her body. “Anyway, why do you need to so much exercise? Don’t you get enough of that during the missions Commander takes you on?”

“Not anymore,” she replied darkly. Both of them were silent for a moment before she said: “It’s a bit of a secret – so…”

In a few minutes, after Sira explained, Steve was chuckling into his palm, earning himself an eye roll. “You, my dear woman,” he said affectionately, “are using very, very dirty tactics. But I absolutely support that strategy.”

She returned his smile with one of hers; wide, warm and genuine. “Good to know, Steve. Now – do you think I could get a pole installed in here somewhere? For, uhm, more exercises?”

**-o.O.o-**

Preparing for all the million of things to do for the battle of Rannoch had been one hell of a bitch. First, they had to infiltrate geth dreadnought. Shepard went there with Tali and James, and since the only entrance to the ship had been through one of the docking tubes, she went alone, saying she will hack some other doors to let them in after her.

Her heart nearly stopped, when the tube parted and for a moment, she was weightlessly flying in the vacuum. When the panic set for the first second, the others were desperately asking what is happening, when a single voice cackled in the comm; calm and precise, with the single accent that set the speaker apart. “Maker,” the voice chanted, “my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion, should they set themselves against me.”

She let it replay in her head, over and over, as she clung to a cable to stop herself from floating away into the open space. “My faith sustains me, my faith sustains me…” Her breathing slowly calmed down, her inner balance once again reached, and she calmly responded to her crewmates what it was about, her voice light.

She should have known Sira would understand, even if they were at odds right now.

**-o.O.o-**

While Legion’s entrance to the war room certainly rose all hell among the quarian admirals on the Normandy, Sira was over the moon at seeing Legion, running up the geth and hugging him tight, his robotic form looming over her, before he replicated the gesture and – in organic point of view – awkwardly returned the embrace.

James thought it was nice to see Sira smile again, even if it wasn’t aimed at him.

He will have to speak with her properly soon, he vowed to himself, if only for being able to see that smile, be it gentle, warm or teasing, aimed at him once more.

**-o.O.o-**

This whole war was a disaster – not only for it brought great danger to people who never before held a gun in their hands, but also for what it meant for the geth. Thing was, the geth were quite content – well, as content as an AI can be – by living on Rannoch, and wouldn’t really feel like attacking anything or anybody. But then the quarians attacked, and as Legion said, caused the ‘death’ of numerous geth programs that were already uploaded in the server they bombed into oblivion.

Was it such a surprise that the geth thought Reaper offer of upgrading such a good deal?

It was part of the reason why Allison insisted on finding admiral Koris on Rannoch, saving him against all his reservations, nearly forcing him to upload his coordinates, so they could pick him up.

It saved quite a big part of Civilian fleet, since he managed to calm the agitated captains and stop them from attempts to run through the mass relay, but otherwise, it was clear the loss of his ship, Qwib-Qwib, and her crew weighed heavily on his mind.

It was probably one of the reasons he supported her so whole-heartedly when she pleaded the quarian fleet to stop firing at temporarily disorganized geth, to believe the peace truly is possible, if only they stop firing and wait for one (bloody) minute.

After a moment that stretched like eternity itself, admiral Gerrel gave order to cease firing, and Allison felt herself starting breathing again. At least before Legion said he (yes, _he_ ) must upload himself into the upgrades, otherwise the Reaper code won’t work as intended.

It hurt to see his form crumble, as he stopped functioning at the finished install of the upgrades, and nothing could stop her from crying once she got back on the Normandy.

Meanwhile, Sira had been sitting on a crate in the shuttle bay, leaning her head against Steve’s shoulder as she cried, quietly telling him stories about the times she would creep into the AI core to speak with the geth, and how he would make a light show out of his optical light, just for the amusement value. Study of organics, he would call it, but somewhere deep in her heart Sira always thought that Legion meant more with the gesture than he would be able to show as a geth without any of the Reaper upgrades which would make him a true AI in the end.

James just sat opposite of them topping up their glasses with the tequila he brought, envying Steve his place by Sira’s side.

 

 


	23. Peptalks and Other Crazy Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since the primitives are good for more than just _that_ one thing.

 

From all the primitives that now surrounded him, there were only handful of those who were at least a bit memorable.

First of them had been Commander Shepard. If he read it correctly, she was the one who activated the Prothean beacon on the human colony of Eden Prime, the same one his stasis pod was uncovered by this seemingly pro-human terrorist organisation. She was direct, with something he would have thought weakness, were they in his cycle, but the more he saw of it, the more he started to see what it truly meant to be a paragon during time such as Reaper Harvest. The woman knew what she was doing, and if she were unsure about something, she would ask others for help, and she would receive it immediately.

The clone they had the misfortune of meeting had truly been only a pale imitation of the real thing; something unhardened, not modelled by events that took time during Shepard’s life.

Second was this ‘Joker’ human, piloting the ship, the Normandy. If he understood it correctly, the man was considered cripple by many, due to the illness that weakened his bones – but as he liked to point out, his legs may be weak, but his hands could make any ship, most of the Normandy herself, dance at the slightest touch, easily escaping from Reaper’s grasp. He touched the human once, and sensed the great deal of pain the man used to be, the feeling of utter accomplishment when he graduated at the top of his class, the feeling of utter despair and disgust with himself as commander got spaced before his very eyes, and the happiness he felt when he saw commander alive again – a little worse for the wear, but still herself.

The asari, Liara, seemed to have completely misguided image of what his people were like. Deep down, he knew he couldn’t know what his people were like before the Harvest, but in the memory crystals he saw the truth – they weren’t the benevolent uplifters this asari made them to be. They were conquerors, dictators and destroyers of whole worlds, which wouldn’t bow down to their will, uplifting those they viewed as worthy of the attention, while overlooking the others completely. Part of him wanted to be like the scientist or artist she pictured him to be. But the realistic part of him knew it was not possible – war was his shaper, and doing anything else now would be unimaginable.

The turian, Garrus, knew how to handle his weapons, and how to calibrate the gun Normandy was equipped with. He understood the cold calculus of war; the one Shepard refused to accept as her own yet, but wouldn’t force that idea, that knowledge, on anyone. If he didn’t agree with something, he would voice his complaint, otherwise keeping silent, and following orders.

That James human was almost laughable, if he hasn’t seen his proves on the battlefield. Strong build, quick thinking and quick movements – that was what made the marine dependable. He was also easily fooled, but Javik thought that one negative thing could be excused, as long as his battle proves didn’t suffer from it.

The Kaidan human was strange in Javik’s eyes – first, he thought him weak, indecisive and weak, but slowly, the man proved to be a valuable asset to the team. He was also someone who balanced the commander. Him thinking the human weak held no importance for the commander, as she took the man into her life, heart and bed. Javik just hoped it wouldn’t break her resolute at ending the Reaper invasion.

Then there was this ‘Sira’, who looked like another Shepard’s clone, but with some exceptions. Like – her life was absolutely different from Shepard’s, shorter, too, shaped by different upbringing, by different fate, by different kicks in the face. The woman was younger than Shepard, her face adorned by a tattoo, the lines of ink waving around her artificial eye, which she lost after the Collector abduction some months ago. He felt great struggle out of her – deep conflict of what she thought proper, what she desperately desired in her life and dying. The woman wanted to die, hoping it would return her from when she came from, this world of the name ‘Thedas’, as he read from the barest of touches when he met her in the corridor. She was one of the few primitives who could glare just like him, looking at him down her nose and telling him in no uncertain terms that until he saves his world from certain end, he has absolutely no moral grounds on looking down at her.

Period.

She didn’t lie in that aspect – when she told him to just read it from her mind, so she saved her breath by not having to repeat one story for yet another time, he did it without hesitation, curiosity unbefitting a Prothean overruling any sense of superiority for a moment. In snaps, he saw what made her the person she was – happy childhood in stone fortress at the sea shore, sounds of laughter and dog’s barking accompanying her everywhere. Then followed the scene with her father bleeding on the floor, with her mother holding her dying husband to her. Then she was being dragged away together with a small boy, screaming for her parents. Beacon set aflame, call for help unheeded, trust betrayed. Pain, fear, blood and darkness, always close to her, until snippets of other thing broke through. Affection. Friendship. Curiosity. Love.

And once again betrayal, abandonment and coldness, mixed with triumph and great pride, as he watched her run against dying dragon (in his eyes that creature looked similar to Harvesters), cutting through its neck until it fell, her sword stabbing its head, her being enveloped in white light before everything exploded.

He still would look down at her for being just a human, but he still would engage in talking with her, sharing bits and pieces of Prothean lore in exchange for stories from her own world, others often joining on their talks, listening in or adding their own words into their talks.

He liked the sense of camaraderie it brought him, even if he would never say that aloud.


	24. Party in the House Tonight

 

After Thessia fell to the Reaper forces, the Cerberus assassin, Kai Leng, once again escaping their reach with the bit of vital information for building the Crucible, Shepard was ready to burst in flames over the feeling of utter failure.

That was when the idea to finally hold the party she wanted to have in the apartment Anderson gave her. So she sent everyone an invite, telling them to dress in any way they wanted, and possibly bring some drinks, if they wanted, since some heavy drinking was expected on this kind of party.

Steve sent an apology for arriving late, saying that he will bring Sira with him. He also attached an urgent note of her switching the TV at C-News channel at 18:00 (the party was supposed to start at 16:00), asking her to gather everyone for that.

None of them sure expected to be watching a fundraiser, dedicated to all war effort, being held by bar dancers, of all people.

And they expected even less to see Sira (of all possible people) as one of the dancers.

The woman had been dressed in a way which was see through, yet giving away mostly just shapes, not a direct view. The cloth enveloping her body would part there to show a creamy thigh, or there to show the curve of her hip or the line of her neck.

Before she started to dance, she looked into the camera and said she dedicates this dance to all fighters out there, asking them to stay strong, especially the certain someone whose name sounds like he were a stripper on Omega, causing Garrus snicker and James chocking on his drink.

Then the music started playing and Sira threw herself into the dance, moving around the stage with grace that left them all speechless, lips moving as she obviously sang together with the singer. It’s raining men – halleluja!

 _“Fuck,”_ was what Zaeed said when he saw it, and the rest of them had been quite open to agree with that short, yet very fitting, statement; James most of them all. Did that mean he would still get a chance, once Sira and Steve came over?

He certainly hoped it did.

**-o.O.o-**

“I seriously hope we helped to raise at least a small amount of money,” Sira told Steve, as he drove them to the Silversun Strip. The pilot snorted, rolling his eyes at the woman. “Sira, I bet you raised most of the money the whole event raised, just by being hot and steamy with all those moves. If you were my type, I would be all over you right now, instead of turning the steering wheel.”

Sira chuckled. “Thank you, Steve,” she whispered after a moment, her hand reaching to touch his elbow. “Without you, I do not think I would ever be able to either put that choreography together or actually performing it anywhere.”

“Just wait until we come to Shepard’s place – I hope they watched the whole thing.”

 _“WHAT?!”_ screeched Sira, alarmed at the notion of the rest of the team actually seeing that. It had been a great part of herself, that she showed in that dance; the passion Zevran always told her to stop bottling up, the cheekiness in her dedication of the dance to one _‘Jimmy Vega, which sounds like a stripper on Omega’_ , the seriousness of the whole thing, as she created it for a good thing.

Steve was so dead when they are at their destination.

**-o.O.o-**

The party was set on full when they arrived, Sira still flushed after her dance, the colour adding to her beauty. She was once again dressed in her skivvies; asymmetrical tunic in silver and blue, tight pants, tall boots, her hair kept in that impractical style she favoured so much, the visor once again hiding her eye from the view.

The company gathered at the event of Shepard’s party welcomed her to the party with bunch of cat-calls, congratulations to job well done and nice dancing, while Sira just glared at Steve, who had the “I regret nothing” look around him, as he returned her glare with a smile.

“So, princess of Girl Scouts,” drawled Jack. “What about you showed off those moves one more time to us? Right now?”

Sira didn’t know what hit her, since everyone seemed to know about her attraction to James, and James’ attraction to her, and was set on helping them to finally get together; otherwise the unresolved sexual tension would make someone to choke on it. Once they managed to get Sira to unwillingly agree on performing for them as well, with the promise she can at least change into her dancing attire, Steve went over to James and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Won’t you go to check on her?” he asked, nodding his way up to the room Sira disappeared into. For a second, James just stared at him, dumbfounded, before he finally gathered his brain and with a deep breath, he discreetly made his way through the apartment.

Time for the moment of truth, he thought with his heart beating madly as he rose his hand to knock on the door. Once in a lifetime moment, when he went to the woman he felt attracted to, and with whom he would like to have something more than just a drunken one night stand.

With one last deep breath, he knocked.

**-o.O.o-**

Sira was not expecting anyone, as she was changing into the transparent clothing she wore for the fundraiser. Least of all she was expecting the person who just entered the room – James Vega himself.

“James?” she asked, not knowing what else she should say. Really – what are you supposed to say when you are half-naked (or as good as half naked, since everyone can see through your outfit) and face to face with the man you would like to do nothing than kiss senseless, but who never did anything what could be constructed as returning your interest before?

“Hey,” James said, not knowing what he should say. The situation was rather unique for him as well, especially after hearing of Sira’s history back after the attempt of stealing the Normandy. He just stood there for a moment, Sira watching him expectantly, as he debated what he should say, until he blurted: “I’ve heard you. I mean, I’ve heard you after the Silversun Casino fundraiser.”

He never would have guessed anyone could get so pale, but Sira definitely could. In fact, her knees went weak; when she remembered the exact event he was speaking about and nearly fainted at the implications. Jumping forward, he caught her before she could fell, holding her in place while she struggled to breathe.

“James,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“I’m not sorry for what I’ve heard,” he countered, leaning back so he could see her face. “It put things into perspective, you know, _chica_? I didn’t know…”

“And here I thought I was quite obvious,” grimaced Sira, looking away. James raised his hand to her face, turning her to face him again. “You were. But I had been too much of an idiot to act on what I felt.”

“And what do you feel?”

In that moment, James decided that the time for playing hard to get was finally over. Leaning down, he just kissed her, enjoying the way how after she overcame her surprise, she came to cling against him, pressing her body against his, as she stood on her tip toes to return his kisses.

None of them realized how long they had been there, just pressing their lips together after the first rush was over, until someone knocked on the door and called: “We are waiting!”

Breaking the contact, Sira smiled at James. “I will be dancing for you, Jim,” she told him with a slow smile, one that James readily returned. “And I will be waiting for you,” he replied, sneaking out of the room so she could finish changing.

She was about to give the best performance of her life, and nothing will be able to stop her.

**-o.O.o-**

The party took the whole evening; everyone laughing despite the Reaper invasion. Dancing, drinking, smiling over stupid jokes – they did it all, and none of them cared about how silly it may look.

Half-through the party Allison called everyone to the biggest sofa in the apartment, deciding it was time to make a picture, so all of them could remember this one time all of them went to a party together.

“Everyone say ‘Normandy’!” she called, and everyone just dutifully repeated the word. “Normandy!”

The picture, enlarged and cleared out of any possible light interference, took its place in the bar room, taking over half of the wall. For a moment, Allison took her time to explore the picture. Nearly everyone was smiling; even Javik looked quite merry, considering how biting the man could be. And there – James and Sira stood close to each other, she looking up at him out of the corner of her eye, his arm sneaking its way around her waist.

She was very much aware that during the party they sneaked out of the apartment, and if the happy glow both of them were sporting the next day said anything, no one commented on it, even if everyone noticed it quite clearly.


	25. Alpha and Omega

 

“Don’t fuck with Aria.”

Shepard thought of that single Omega rule Aria herself told her when she arrived to Omega for the very first time. Not that she would have thought about pissing the all-knowing asari, but that rule kind of stuck. She respected the woman, even if she was a crime lord of sorts, and the asari respected her back, giving her info she needed, asking only for some minor favours in return.

So when Aria gave her intel on mercenary groups waiting for a hire, she sort of jumped at the opportunity, doing the favours to get their support for the Reaper war, and didn’t mind Aria requesting her help in retaking the Omega.

Especially since it was true that Cerberus was so mobile in Terminus system mostly because of the rule they had over the biggest eezo mine in the Traverse. Retaking the place with someone who would pledge support to the Alliance, in matters of fleet, mineral resources and man power was sort of key importance, and when Aria said Shepard must come on her own, she decided to try something.

“Sira, you are going with me.”

Her alternate self was quite surprised she was being taken to an away mission of such importance again, but she didn’t ask any questions, simply asking what she should expect and thus what she should equip for the mission. Aria sure seemed to be surprised when Allison showed at the rendezvous point with Sira in tow, but then her lips quirked in a sardonic smile.

“Two for the price of one?” she asked, turning to her second in command. “Let’s move.”

Operation ‘Retake Omega’ started with emergency evacuation, but if any of them had any say in its continuation, it would end with success, lest they at least die trying.

**-o.O.o-**

Aria watched the Shepard twin with eyes of a bird of prey. Competent, yet still curious about what was happening around her; naïve in some matters, yet deadly realistic in others. She was more likely to stab an enemy up close, instead of shooting him at range, and flung around grenades with deadly precision, taking great care to inflict the most damage to the enemy units, be it sending them flying all around, or making them bleed with the shrapnel . There was tension between this Sira and Shepard, although not the same that was between her and Nyreen, oh no. Those two weren’t lovers in the past or in the present. Those two were the same being, although with different experiences; deadly and efficient in everything they did. While one would be shooting at everything that wore the wrong colours, the other would apply medi gel to the wounded Talons, not caring that their assistance had yet to be secured, earning themselves gratitude from the wounded, and also bonus points in the eyes of Talon’s leader – Nyreen.

Aria also quite liked the fact that Sira supported her saying that it’s better to die in a street fight, than to wait like a mindless cattle for slaughter. “That’s true,” she said back then. “When the war came to my country, every single one of able bodied Fereldans raised their weapon, even if it was only sharpened stick, and fought against the occupants. Die fighting is always better than die doing nothing.”

Once securing the alliance, they quickly moved through the mines of Omega, uncaring about the fear Adjutants woke in both of them, even if Aria was better at hiding the spook they gave her. She supposed that going through Omega Four relay would give everyone a bit of a perspective at what is really scary, but the fact remained.

The Adjutants had been bloody scary.

They continued to the reactor to disable the barriers that General Petrovsky maintained all over Omega. The mines had been dark, with only the eezo providing light at times, but somehow they managed to not lose themselves in there.

Aria felt her heart beating madly. They were getting close. Soon, the entire station will be fighting, Petrovsky’s men not knowing where to run first, as blood will be flowing through the streets. Aria knew her Omega, and her people. No one would stand aside, just like those Fereldans Sira spoke about.

**-o.O.o-**

Fighting at the reactor site had been one hell of a close call. Aria was still bewildered that she managed to tear the barrier with her biotics, the tear big enough for Shepard to pull through to shut the reactor off, the rest of them fighting the mechs Petrovsky sent after them.

Shepard told her and Nyreen later that Petrovsky contacted her when she was disabling the barriers, trying to dissuade her from doing it, since it would shut life support in quite a big part of the station, prompting her to create a bypassing circuit for the life support, and then the whole Omega exploded in gun fight, the team once again separating, Sira and Nyreen leading the fight towards Afterlife, while Shepard and Aria went after the bombs that threatened to destroy the support columns of the station.

The pairs looked at each other rather awkwardly before they took off on their separate ways, only Sira lingered long enough to give Allison a nod, and a “in war, victory”, before she ran after the turian.

**-o.O.o-**

The fighting was progressing better than Sira expected from what Nyreen was trying to say. In the turian’s eyes, nearly everyone must have been incapable, or unwilling to fight. But with Aria back, everyone seemed to be eager to fight, throwing themselves into the fray, shooting at any rampart mech in sight, at any Cerberus troop not careful enough to stay in cover.

They stayed in radio contact, Aria and Allison reporting they found the facility that created Adjutants, and what led to them running rampart at some parts of the station, when suddenly, one of the consoles in the facility stated that Cerberus found way how to control them.

Maker’s bloody breath, it was supposed to be possible to control those creatures?!

Then, Nyreen announced she is going to go into radio silence, ordering some of her men to lead the fighting closer to the Afterlife, Sira silently sneaking out with her under the cover of her faithful cloaking device. There had been fighting, and suddenly, there had been bunch of badly equipped civilians running before group of Adjutants.

In a fateful second, Nyreen enveloped the creatures and herself in a biotic bubble, and looking at the suddenly appearing Aria, she dropped the grenades she was holding.

The asari let out a dreadful scream as she watched the turian blow herself up, and not caring about her own safety, she ran to the Afterlife, blasting anyone who stood in her way into oblivion.

But she underestimated Oleg Petrovsky one more time. He had been waiting for her the entire time he ruled over Omega, and he was prepared for the assault of vengeful asari biotic. As Aria jumped to the lodge she used to spend her days at, she found herself caught in force field that wouldn’t let her go, Shepard and Sira running after her, deflecting enemy’s fire as they were trying to disable to power cells powering the barrier.

Sira got thrown around a bit by one of the Adjutants, not paying attention to her flank for one second, the creature immediately using the advantage. Allison meanwhile had been on the opposite side of the club, bleeding from a wound on her face, as one of the mechs took a lucky shot at her.

And finally, Aria felt the field weakening, as Sira disabled the last power source, thus allowing her to throw her biotics around, destroying the remaining mechs, forcing Petrovsky into surrender.

For a moment, she held the Cerberus General by the neck, tempted to end the life she literally held in her hand. But the memory of Nyreen, and her passionate speech about how Omega was morally bankrupt and needed revival appeared before her eyes, and she just couldn’t kill the man; not with Shepard and Sira watching.

Not with Nyreen dead.

She released him into the Alliance custody, pledging her services to Admiral Hackett.

She had much work to do. But first, she opened the projector to deliver a speech to her people.

“Citizens of Omega, hear me. I, Aria T’Loak, have given you back your lives. My rule is reignited. My hand is on the controls once more, and I will not let go again. Each of you owed a debt. Gain my favour by rounding up the remaining Cerberus invaders, and…”

For a moment, she stopped, unsure at what to say.

“… and we will cast them from our home, then bury and mourn our dead. My methods haven’t always been popular and I can’t promise that will change. But securing this station and everyone inside is now my primary purpose. No one will imprison us again.”

Outside, Shepard and Sira were walking to Bray who had been expecting them by the docks, as Aria slowly finished her speech.

“We may be bruised. We may be bloodied. But we are Omega!”

“You always get these crap details, Bray?” asked Sira, making the batarian grin. “Not this time – you got galaxy to save.” He motioned the women forward. “Let’s get you off this rock.”

Shepard received a message from the batarian bodyguard later; one that made her smile a bit.

_From: Bray_

_Subject: Omega_

_Things are settling down on Omega. Looks like the Talons are the new security force on the station. Their leader said something about honouring Kandros's memory. I'd say they were being cute, except they're not shy about backing up the sentiment with firepower._  
  
_Be careful out there. Know there's at least one batarian here that doesn't want you dead._  
  
_Bray_

Well, that was a first. Good to know that after the beating she gave them at Elysium, there were still some who actually quite liked her.

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, may I interest you in my blog entry about my [NaNoWriMo voyage](http://veroniquebee.hubpages.com/hub/NaNoWriMo-or-Thirty-Days-of-Writing-Madness)?


End file.
